Extracts from War
by Jarakrisafis
Summary: Autobots, Decepticons, serious, humour, utter crack, any and all continuities... collection of short unrelated ficlets - constantly being added to.
1. The One Nobody Expects

Decided to collect all my short Transformers fics into one file to reduce clutter. Different continuities, characters and genres be here...**

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The One Nobody Expects  
Verse: Bayverse, Hound/Mirage, Sideswipe  
Summary: Why would a member of ops be bonded to a mate they have to keep secrets from?  
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"Ya know, I've been thinking something for a while." The bots gathered around the table in the rec room, in various states of inebriation turned to Sideswipe at his sudden pronouncement. "I thought ops bots didn't bond outside of ops 'cos of the whole accidental sensitive info transfer and all that."

They don't." Several nodded in agreement.

Sideswipe leant forward, placing his empty cube of highgrade on the already high stack. "So how's Hound with Mirage?" he said waving a hand at the two bots sitting suspiciously close to each other on the other side of the rec room.

Several pairs of optics shuttered as their owners attempted to gain a logical answer from their processors while impaired with large amounts of energon.

"Anyway," Sideswipe said as he grabbed another cube from the dwindling supply of full cubes left on the table, "I have come to the conclusion that Hound is obviously a member of ops."

"Yeah, right." The snickers at the thought of the nature loving scout skulking down the hallways of the Nemesis echoed around the table.

"They're probably just you know, not actually bonded." One of the not quite as energised bots said.

"I suppose." Sideswipe agreed as he dismissed the two from his mind in favour of more energon.

* * *

"They were staring at us."

Hound just shrugged at his mate's pronouncement. "They're probably too over energised to remember that we were here anyway."

Mirage just vented air in a sigh as he glanced over the bots draped over the other table before returning his attention to Hound. "You get Jazz's message?"

"I did, we need to go poke Ratchet for a repaint and some cosmetic changes." Hound grinned at the sour look his mate shot him at the mention of adjusting his chassis, even if it was to avoid being shot when inside the Decepticon base.

"What's the excuse this time?" Mirage asked.

Hound grinned, "I, am going on a two week African safari, to study native human cultures and the environment."

Mirage raised an optic ridge, "coincidentally, right as I'm being sent on a mission. You'd think they'd have noticed by now that your cultural tours happen at the same time I get sent out."

Hound just shrugged as he got up, "that's why we're ops and they aren't."

The two bots grinned at each other as they slipped past the other table, now mainly full of recharging bots, on their way out of the rec room to the medbay.

Sideswipe gave them a halfsparked wave from his reclining position half off the chair he had originally been occupying as they went by and wished Hound a good time in Africa.

Hound just smiled and waved back at the over energised frontliner.

Really, why would he want to go to Africa anyway?


	2. Triplicate

Triplicate  
Verse: G1, Prowl, Blue, Smokey, Ratchet  
Notes: Boredom + tfbunnyfarm = very short randomness.  
Summary: Certain mechs have finally had it with the twins pranks and come up with a novel way to get revenge...

* * *

When the door slid back Bluestreak tentatively poked his head around the frame. He was quite sure he hadn't done anything wrong recently. He'd handed in his reports, showed up on time for patrol and hadn't ended up in the medbay. There was the prank last week, but he'd been a victim not an instigator.

"Come in Blue."

He tilted his head as he slid into a seat, shooting Smokescreen a curious glance before focusing his attention back onto Prowl who had set aside his datapads and was leaning over his desk with a rather scary expression.

"How would you like to get the twins back for that prank last week?" Bluestreak couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Prowl smile like that.

And if Prowl was helping then he couldn't get in too much trouble...

* * *

Ratchet huffed a blast of air through his vents. Of all the mechs to cause trouble, Prowl wasn't one of the usual suspects.

But he'd had several reports from different mechs about the bot acting, well, not like himself.

The first one had been from the twins of all mechs, saying Prowl had somehow got hold of a warp generator.

Jazz had popped his head in to say that he thought he was making progress, Prowl hadn't corrected him when he called him Prowler.

Prime thought he should double check Prowl's memory banks when he was next in for maintenance.

The Aerial bots were all insisting they had caught sight of Prowl speeding down one of the unused corridors.

And Streetwise and Blades had been caught betting, and said that Prowl had not only left them with the datapad, he had joined in.

Ratchet let out another puff of air.

Speak of the mech.

He waved Prowl over with, eyeing the mech up as he approached, narrowing his optics he frowned.

Something was different, but he couldn't quite tell what.

"You wanted something Ratchet?" Prowl asked as he slid into the seat opposite the medic.

Being the only senior medic in the group meant that all the chassis on the ark had been under his optics at some point. Thus he stated with some certainty, "you're not Prowl."

He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't the mech frowning, wings flickering in annoyance. "Pit. What gave me away?"

Running a light scan the medic tilted his head, matching the scan to his records. "Smokescreen?"

"Shhhhhhh." The pseudo-Prowl made a 'quiet' motion with his hand. "We're waiting for the twins."

Ratchet looked up at that, scanning the rest of the rec room with his optics. A flash of white moved in one of the darkest corners as another identical tactician gave him a small wave.

"Prowl?" Ratchet asked quietly, hand over his faceplates.

"Nope, that's Blue." Smokescreen said as he pulled a datapad out of subspace, holding the stylus in a good imitation of Prowl before schooling his face to a neutral expression.

He didn't know what trouble the three Praxians were about to cause, but at least he could tell Prime that reports of Prowls impending insanity were false.


	3. Joyride

Joyride  
Verse: Bayverse, Wildrider

* * *

If there was one thing about this planet he hated, it was the dominant species' inherent fragility.

Well actually, that wasn't strictly true; he didn't hate that, more the consequences of such a nature. He hated how their squishyness forced them to build to such low standards.

Not his fault they can't survive impacts at high speeds, thus building transportation vehicles with such a ridiculously slow top speed.

And the amount of rules they made, where to drive, when to drive, which way to drive, when to stop, when to start, how fast to go. It was positively insane.

He revved his engine, waiting for the lights to change so he could get past the two trucks which were blocking him. If they hadn't been there he wouldn't have even waited for the lights to change, jumping them and watching the squishies panic is much more fun.

As he pulled away he caught a familiar Cybertronian signal, which was confirmed a moment later as a black and white cop car pulled out of the stationary traffic waiting down one of the side roads and turned his way.

Pulling into the oncoming traffic to overtake the two trucks he floored his alt forms accelerator.

He laughed to himself as the oncoming vehicles driven by the squishies scrambled out of the way.

Not as stupid as some of his associates make them out to be.

The cop car followed, lights flashing and sirens blaring, both strangely familiar. How many times had he led the enforcers, this one in particular on merry chases around Iacons lower districts?

This form might be slower, but it did present some new challenges, back on Cybertron he had a hoverform, flipping off walls and skipping across the roofs and balconies had been the main entertainment. Here, wheels couldn't flip the same way and if he tried to climb a building here there would be a con shaped hole in it. But then, the squishies are still using stone and glass to build, not nearly as durable as metals and crystal.

Jumping a red light he snickered as he left several cars with dents in, he of course, had barely a scratch. Sliding around a corner he pushed his handbrake down, coming around in a perfect turn.

Following him at such high speeds the cop hurtled round the corner only to be greeted by a derisive flash of his headlights before he set off back the way he'd come.

This, this he could do for hours.

Swerving down the centre of the tarmac he swung from side to side, uncaring of the dented panels and broken glass he left in his wake.

If the squishies didn't want there vehicles broken they shouldn't leave them parked where they could get damaged.

This was fun.

The rush of wind.

The thrill of the chase.

He could feel the energy racing around his form, filling every circuit, urging him to greater and greater speeds.

If he had been in a form in which he could grin he would have as he contemplated the tangle of crisscrossing bridges comprising the fast approaching highway junction.

Waiting for the right moment he swerved across the lanes, flipped into his bipedal form and swung over the edge, landing on the road beneath he was back on four tires before his pursuer had even realised what he'd just done.

Taunting his pursuer with a flash of his hazard lights he dodged between vehicles as they doubled back into the narrower streets of the city centre.

It had been a long time since he'd found a mech who could keep up with him.

It sent a crackle of power surging through his frame, despite the disgust he felt for the fact that the other was a Prime loving, peace making Autobot.

A sudden voice in his helm almost caused him to lose control, the mindset he had been in falling away at the sound of the no nonsense monotone. "Wildrider: return to base."

Snarling he acknowledged the comm. before looking for someway to lose his pursuer.

Pulling into a multi-storey car park he powered down, waiting for the Autobot to move away so he could slip out and go report in.

He huffed, rocking on his shocks a little as the excess energy slowly dissipated, old 'Wave sure knew how to ruin his fun.

Opening a private channel to the Autobot he waited for it to be acknowledged.

A ping on his comm. let him know the ex-enforcer had accepted the channel.

"Better luck next time." He taunted as he started his engine, gunning it and hightailing it away before the Autobot could get a good lock onto his position.

The enforcers huff of annoyance and abrupt termination of the commline made him laugh as he flew across the tarmac, heedless of the laws of the land.


	4. The Sincerest Form of Flattery

The Sincerest Form of Flattery  
Verse: G1  
Character(s): Ratchet, Protectobots  
Summary: The sincerest form of flattery is...

* * *

  
"Hiya Aid" The jaunty voice that interrupted the young medic and his mentor was ignored until the line of fine soldering was completed to Ratchets standards. Turning to regard the rest of the Protectobots as they trouped into the medbay Ratchet had to run a quick internal diagnostic on his optics.

It wasn't the soot or the heat blistered paint that drew his attention, no, it was the leg, two arms and a hand that were being carried in free, and thank fully still attached, limbs that made him stare.

Pointing wordlessly to a berth he waited as they got Groove situated; his leg was placed behind him, or at least, Ratchet assumed it was his simply because the other three were walking; the soot was too thick to see the paint colours. The other assorted limbs joined it a second later as both medics continued to stare.

"What the Frag?" Ratchet ground out as they all grinned at him, not a trace of remorse on any of their faces.

"Prowl said we should learn from our elders." Streetwise and Blades nodded in support of their leader.

"And this leads to you missing body parts how?" Ratchet prompted, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Hot Shot tilted his head slightly, regarding the senior medic, "well, Wheeljack always comes in like this after experimenting."


	5. Oblivious

Oblivious  
Verse: G1, Various Decepticons  
Notes: tf_speedwriting Prompt 1: 20 Oct 2010  
Summary: It is best that some things go unnoticed

* * *

It wasn't clear why the event in question had happened.

What was clear was when exactly it had occurred.

It was about the time most mechs were settling down to recharge and only the night shift were on duty. Although perhaps the most important thing was that the leader was not on board, having left to go find somewhere quiet to plot.

That was when the ship had shook. Violently. And rather loudly, as a muted boom rolled down the corridors.

It was quickly followed by the base alarms going off as the mechs in the control room proved they were paying attention, either that or the shaking had woken them.

As such it was a ragged group of recharge deprived mechs which had converged on the source of the problem.

Most of the mechs simply regarded the damage with a raised optic ridge. While the destroyed lab was nothing new, the spreading crack in the hull of the ship could become problematic.

In fact, looking at the salt water which was already starting to creep across the floor, it could prove to be a very large problem.

The general consensus, reached due to many incidents of a similar nature, was reached without the need for any communication.

The wall was welded, patched and reinforced in record time. The water that had managed to seep in was cleared, the soot blackening was removed from the walls, and the dents in the benches and tables were bashed out.

The culprit was escorted, or rather, dragged by virtue of being offline, to the medbay by his irate gestalt and the mechs returned to their delayed recharge.

The event was not recorded in any personal logs and the monitor logs were wiped of the short time frame.

In fact these sort of events were so common that when Megatron, on a tour of the ship several Earth months in the future asked why the wall appeared to have several doors, four tabletops and a couple of chairs bolted to it, none of the mechs could remember exactly when the items in question had been added.

Megatron had simply shook his head and wandered out, muttering about insane mechs and their decorating sense.

He didn't see the crowd that had gathered wilt in relief that he hadn't looked any closer and noticed the welding holding the items together and more importantly, keeping the water outside of his ship.

Nor did he see Mixmasters gleeful look when he announced that the inspection was finished and he was going to go find some Autobots to blast. Nor did he see the resigned glances that the rest of his crew exchanged as the chemist disappeared into his lab.


	6. A Fair Cop

A Fair Cop  
Verse: G1 Pre-war, Jazz and Prowl  
tf_speedwriting Prompt 4. 12/3/11 'You're only in trouble if you get caught'  
Summary: You're only in trouble if you get caught. And if you do get caught, you might as well do so in style.

* * *

Approaching the laser bars surrounding one of the holding cells the enforcer almost gave in to the urge to turn around and walk back out.

"Hey, nice morning for a chat."

The enforcer released a vent full of air he hadn't realised he had been holding until the system overheating warning flashed across his vision. He really should have guessed.

Drawing his wings up he stared through the bars at the smaller Polyhexian mech who was sprawled on the berth. "It was until I got sent down here." The 'because nobody else can deal with you without an urge to offline you' went unspoken as the enforcer pulled a datapad and stylus from his subspace.

"So, what did you do this time?" He prompted when the smaller mech didn't say anything.

"Me? Now why do you lot always assume I'm to blame?"

"You were arrested at the scene with evidence." The enforcer said as he pulled up the related files. "Thus you are most likely to blame."

Not that it would do any good. For every act they managed to pin on the mech there would be another five or so where he would be let go when they could find no solid evidence with which to charge him. And none of the things they did manage to pin on him warranted anything bigger than a fine. "Well, I wouldn't say I did anything wrong."

The enforcer merely raised an optical ridge as the other mech swung off the berth and came to stand on the other side of the lasers. His datapad merely said vandalism, in this mechs case that could mean anything.

"I'd prefer to think of it as redecorating."

"Redecorating?" The enforcer asked with the resignation gained from having been through several similar scenarios.

"Well, you Praxians are so boring." The enforcer felt his wings twitch at the insult but managed to keep the snarl off his face. How one delinquent mech managed to get so under his armour he didn't know.

"I will assume therefore that you attempted to liven up our city somehow?"

"Succeeded my good mech, succeeded to liven up your city."

The enforcer narrowed both optics at the mech who was looking far too smug for one who was standing on the wrong side of a set of laser bars.

"What exactly did you redecorate?"

The smaller mech grinned, "You know the big statue outside the University." Yes, he knew about it, everybody in Praxus must have seen it since it was over twice the size of shuttle mechs, missing it was hardly an option. "Well, its colour scheme was rather boring."

And he could also see where this was going...

"I'm not too sure lime green, yellow and pink really suit it."


	7. Just a Name

Just a Name  
Bayverse, Will Lennox, Epps, Ironhide, Hound  
Yet another prompt from the tf_bunny_farm - Do transformers have pets?

* * *

Will Lennox stretched as Hide turned off the highway, beside him Epps looked up from his laptop before going back to whatever he was doing.

"You said he made land fall about three hours ago, has the new guy picked an Earth name yet?"

"Not yet" the weapons specialist said as he turned off the road and into the treeline.

Emerging into a small clearing Will and Epps got out and moved away as their ride beeped and whirred at the green jeep parked on the other side of the clearing.

"Hello, welcome to Earth." Will said as the jeep transformed into his bipedal mode and turned towards the humans as Ironhide moved to one side.

"Thank you."

"You got a name?"

The bot seemed to be thinking as he regarded the two humans. "Quicksilver." He suddenly said in a threatening tone.

Will and Epps both froze, but the bot made no move to attack, instead he just looked slightly exasperated.

Will frowned, most of the bots picked names that resembled their form, job or a personality trait. Looking to Hide for an explanation he was surprised to see that he had his cannons activated.

"Don't move." The green jeep said as he made his way across the clearing. With the threat of being squished looming both humans held perfectly still as the bot strode over them, reached down and picked something up.

Both humans watched as the bot returned to the other side of the clearing before dropping what could only be described as a very large metal wolf. They watched nonplussed as the jeep attached a heavy chain to a metal band welded round the neck of the wolf.

"Sorry, you're about the size of cybercats. I'll have to add no hunting humans to her command matrix"

"Right," Will said as he wondered how he was going to explain 'wolf the size of a horse that sees humans as something to chase' to Keller. "So you're Quicksilver."

He was cut off by Hides amused clicking.

"She's Quicksilver." The jeep pointed down at the wolf who was still eyeing the humans with interest. "I'm Hound."

Will just sighed.

They already had a paranoid security chief, an invisible spy, an explosive (usually literally) engineer and a cranky, wrench wielding medic. What was one more to add to the madhouse?

"Well then, welcome to Earth Hound." He ignored Ironhide's clicking laughter as he jumped back into the topkick, Epps only a second behind him.

There was silence for a moment or two as the jeep transformed, the wolf jumping up into the back, before being covered with a hologram of an organic sized fur covered wolf of dubious breeding, as the two Cybertronians made their way back to the road.

Epps sighed before opening his laptop again, "This job is really going to the dogs."

Will just let his head thump onto the steering wheel, he really didn't want to know how many dog related jokes Epps could come up with in the hour it would take for them to drive back to the airbase.


	8. Half Life

Half Life  
Verse: Bayverse, Mirage  
Summary: My world is made of light and shadows, of twisting mist and coloured auras

* * *

I have heard it said that I do not like the organics, that this world is too primitive, that I am too high class to appreciate things.

They couldn't be further from the truth. This world and its dominant species are beautiful, so far removed from the lifeless wasteland that Cybertron has become.

Or at least, it would be, but for one thing.

You see I am not like most mechs.

They function in the here and the now, they see only what is in front of their optics, nothing more.

I see much more.

I remember the day that, as the creation of a highly ranked noblemech, I was taken to be fitted with a custom upgrade.

_"Creator?" I contemplated getting off the berth to go see what was wrong before reminding myself that out in public that would be considered rude._

_I fidgeted for moment before remembering that was also not behaviour becoming of a mech in my station and settling down as the medic reran the program which would show which upgrades my systems would accept. Perhaps the first one hadn't been calibrated properly._

_"Well." My creator had an almost resigned tone as he said that. Perhaps they had found nothing that would fit. But that couldn't be, I was of course, constructed of the finest materials._

_"Creator?" I prompted again when he did not immediately show me the datapad._

_I had to reboot my optics when he turned it to face me._

_One result._

_We had both expected a long list, to find only one upgrade would sync with my system was a shock._

_Taking the datapad and running my optics over the details made me feel a little better. It was one of the rarest and most expensive upgrades available, in a category with warp drives and battle computers, but it was still a bit of a let down, to not be able to choose one myself._

When it was first installed and I was allowed to test it I was too excited to pay too much attention to what it showed me.

To the world it opened up.

All that I had been taught was intangible and unreadable on any sensors, no matter how finely calibrated, was laid bare before me.

It was a world of light and shadows, of twisting mist and coloured auras.

It was disturbing.

Disorientating.

It took time to work out how to move, how to function when nothing looks the same.

It was a good thing I had got it down to a fine art by the time Megatron ordered the Towers destroyed.

For surely the amount of noise I made in the first few orns would have given me away in my missions.

At first simply navigating the halls of my home had been a chore.

_"Mirage."_

_Turning around I deactivated my mod to regard my creator, he was staring right at me even as I materialised, a look of disapproval on his faceplates._

_"If you must stumble around like a coding junkie from lower Kaon, could you please do so in your wing, I am trying to work." That said he smartly turned round and disappeared back into his office._

_I sighed before turning round, activating my mod and watching as the walls faded into the silvery mist which surrounded me._

Now though I have it down to a fine art.

Walking down the halls of Diego Garcia I hop over a small bright white light with a tight green aura; human, disciplined, soldier most likely.

Turning the next corner I flatten my chassis against the wall as a blue white aura almost collides with me, at the centre of the aura is a small pulsing blue ball, waves of blue light rippling outwards. And from the rapidity of the pulsing I can safely say that the mech in question is Sideswipe and he's in trouble.

My guess is born out as I once again hug the wall to avoid a low slung, rather compacted light as it follows Sideswipes path. With the audible cursing I don't need to look any closer at the energy field to know that the second mech is Wheeljack.

Entering the rec room I am dazzled by the different lights, human technology glows dully, the energon dispensor in one corner is like a miniature supernova, and dotted around are mechs and humans, energy overlapping in a confusing tangle.

This wouldn't be too bad if it is all I could see.

_I was bored. Utterly bored. Did my creator not realise there is a limit to how much kneeling and praying a youngling can do. Activating my mod I slipped from my creator's side; he was still praying to Primus and didn't even twitch._

_Moving into the main entrance to the Temple I was simply watching the priests go about their business when I noticed that there seemed to be several sparks hovering nearby. Edging closer I frowned when I couldn't detect the hum of any systems._

_Dropping my cloaking I waved a hand through the empty space in front of my chassis._

_I felt my own spark speed up as I reactivated my cloak, the sparks once again clearly visible as they hovered in place._

_Reaching out a shaking hand towards the orbs I watched as they shifted away from me, gliding towards the ceiling of the Temple._

Every thing I had ever been taught said that sparks returned to Primus and the well of all sparks once the chassis goes offline.

What I can see defies that core belief.

As the humans would say; 'I see dead people'.

Which brings me back to why I should like this world, but don't.

This is where the Allspark, the container for the souls of our people, was extinguished.

Or so they say.

I prefer to say broken.

Those that it held set free.

And everywhere I go I see them.

A reminder of all that is lost and can never be.


	9. No remorse

No Remorse  
Verse: Bayverse, Megatron  
Summary: What is one more sacrifice in a war?

* * *

I have often wondered brother, were we always destined to be at odds?

Or did we do something to tip the scales, interrupt the balance of what should be.

I never wanted this. Not in the beginning. Now I see only the path ahead, no return, no going back.

Our world is crumbling around us. And I am helping it fall.

They say I have no regrets.

I do. So many I cannot list them.

I would take it all back brother if I could. I would agree with your foolish ideals, endorse them, promote them, if it would only return colour to those that have been leached of life.

But that is something even you cannot do.

I am a revolution that cannot be stopped. My mechs have lost too much to give up now.

I will not abandon them, but I am not what they need.

I can fight. I can lead. I can inspire.

But I cannot stop this emotion that plagues my processor. Sorrow and grief has no place in a war.

I suppose this is my farewell, brother.

After all, what is another sacrifice against those who have already fallen?

When next we meet I will have no regrets, no remorse.

Compassion can be your department brother.

I will be death; unrelenting, unyielding, ruthless.

I will be the leader this revolution needs.


	10. Harmony and Dissonance

Harmony and Dissonance  
Verse: G1, Bluestreak  
Summary: When everything falls down, what can you cling to?  
Notes: _Past_/Present

* * *

Silence.

_Screaming._

Calm.

_Panic._

Targets in range.

_We are the targets._

Sight down the rifle.

_Shouted warnings fill the area._

Fingers curl around the trigger.

_Energy bolts fly through the air._

Focus.

_Run._

Steady.

_Keep going._

Fire.

_Heat and light all around._

A yell of pain.

_Impacts close by._

Falling.

_Crystal and metal raining down._

Flare of a spark.

_Darkness._

Move on.

_How long has it been?_

Next target.

_Not long enough._

Stay calm.

_Silence._

Silence.

_Stand up._

Stand up.

_Look around._

Walk over to the enemy.

_Everything is still._

No movement.

_Broken bodies all around._

Broken bodies where they fell.

_Crystal still singing with the resonance of war._

Energon soaking into the soil.

_Energon bright against dull grey chassis'._

Their sparks are with Primus now.

_Am I the only spark still here?_

Chassis dulling to a washed out grey.

_I cannot be alone._

Purple emblem slowly fading.

_Some mech is screaming._

Broken like the mechs that haunt my dreams.

_I think it might be me._

Vengeance.

_Broken mind._

Broken enemies.

_Dissonance._

Harmony.


	11. Reputation

Reputation  
Verse: Bayverse, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Will Lennox  
Summary: Sometimes your reputation precedes you.

* * *

Who the hell are you?" Will asked as he blinked up at the three mechs huddled in the darkened storeroom he had just entered.

"Salutations William Lennox." The silver grey one waved at the perplexed human who was trying to decide whether he was the victim of a twin inspired joke, or whether he should be calling Red Alert to report a Decepticon incursion.

The largest of the three, a red and white mech vented air in a human adopted expression of frustration. "Hello Will, may I introduce you to Perceptor and Wheeljack," while the paintjob was unfamiliar and the features hard to see in the dim light, the voice was very familiar.

"Ratchet?" Will said as he glanced between the silver grey painted Perceptor and the white green and red Wheeljack who had a strange set of flashing lights where humans have ears. Neither of whom he had met. Which given that he was the official human greeter when new bots made landfall was rather concerning.

"No, you haven't met them." Ratchet said as he turned back to something behind the three mechs.

"Yet." Wheeljack added, causing a disco effect in the darkened room as his lights flashed green and blue.

Moving closer to see what Ratchet was working one, Wheeljacks statement finally sank in, "yet?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"Indeed, we appear to have caused a minor temporal disturbance due to a localised rip in the fabric of the temporal space continuum."

Will blinked as he translated the last sentence and attempted to work out what the slagged up box of metal was that the three were poking at.

One word jumped out at him suddenly as Perceptor and Wheeljack started fiddling with something inside the device. "Temporal?"

Ratchet vented air again before lifting a finger and mutely pointing at the other two, who were currently cursing the box to the Pit and back.

"Ever heard of a film called 'Back to the Future'?"

"Yes." Will said with a fair amount of trepidation.

"Some wise aft decided to show it at movie night, which of course led to certain glitches deciding it would make a good project."

Will blinked as the box suddenly came to life with a hum and blinking lights.

"Unless you wish to come to the future alongside us, may I suggest you vacate our current location." Perceptor said as he fiddled with what appeared to be a control panel.

"And you probably shouldn't speak about this, it could cause a paradox." Wheeljack added with a multicoloured flash of his fins.

"And don't bother trying to stop them from showing the film, Epps waited until you were on leave to show it since you appeared to hate it so much." Ratchet said as the human exited the storeroom before hurriedly making his way down the corridor.

Stopping at the intersection he looked back just in time to see a bright purple flash of light. Shaking his head he wandered back towards the human areas of the base, and he thought some of the bots around now created problems.

Nobody, Human or Cybertronian, could understand why the announcement of several more Autobots making contact caused Will Lennox to break out in a storm of cursing, or to be more specific, at the two scientists on the team, Wheeljack and Perceptor.

While 'Jack certainly had a reputation amongst his fellow Autobots (and amongst the Decepticons to be honest) for making things go boom, they hadn't even landed yet for the humans to meet.


	12. Like Father, Like Son

Like Father, Like Son  
Continuity: G1, Ratchet, First Aid  
Summary: Perhaps leaving Ratchet in charge of a sparkling was not the best plan.

* * *

The majority of he Autobots had been a little apprehensive when one of the newly sparked Protectobots had decided that Ratchet was his favourite mech. After all, the chief medical officer's temper was legendary. However seeing First Aid happily playing with sparkling sized medical tools in a corner of the medical bay while Ratchet went about his day had become a common sight.

In fact after they realised that the rest of the young gestalt had become somewhat attached to Wheeljack they came to the conclusion that having one of them learning the medical profession was not a bad plan. And besides, many of them thought, it might be nice to have a sane medic around the base.

Well that was the idea. Unfortunately none of the mechs thought to check just what Ratchet was teaching.

In fact they would have remained oblivious if Mirage had not caught them while sneaking in to visit Hound. Settling in next to his offline mate, Mirage had quickly turned his attention to the senior medic who was lounging at his desk, sparkling perched on one knee.

"If a bot comes in because he has done something stupid, what do you do?"

Mirage frowned in confusion, even as the sparklings optical ridges had drawn together in concentration, before his optics brightened and he declared. "Smack em onna helm."

Ratchet bestowed a proud smile on his young protégée before asking another question, "What do you do when a bot comes out of stasis after doing something heroically stupid?"

The thought process was shorter this time as First Aid bounced a little on his mentor's knee.

"Smack em onna helm."

Ratchet grinned before asking the next question. "Okay, so what do you do if the twins come in?"

This time there was no hesitation as the sparkling waved both hands in the air, one of which, Mirage was amused to see, was clenched around a miniature wrench.

"Smack em onna helm." He announced with no small amount of glee.

Deciding that just this once Hound could wake up alone, Mirage crept out of the medbay. He needed to spread this news before it was too late.

Thus it was quickly decided by way of a unanimous vote, that the problem of leaving the rest of the Protectobots in Wheeljacks care, and potentially creating several explosion prone mechs, could wait.

A second Ratchet terrorising the medbay was a far more worrying problem and would need immediate attention to rectify the crisis.


	13. Burning

Continuity: Bayverse, Prowl/Jazz

Summary: Prowl had to arrive on Earth eventually...

Burning.

It should stop.

I've landed.

I think.

Yes, there is ground beneath me.

So why am I still on fire?

Something is wrong.

But I have no idea what.

Perhaps if I move I will find some answers.

Others approach me.

Perhaps they will know what is wrong.

Perhaps something went wrong as I entered the atmosphere and exited transit stasis.

What could it be that I am expecting?

What am I missing?

"Do you think he knows about Jazz?"

Jazz?

Is that what I am missing?

Yes.

The fire is not around me.

It's burning in my spark.


	14. You've got it all Backwards

Continuity: Bayverse, Sideswipe, Ironhide, Lennox  
Summary: Sideswipes latest prank backfires...

"Uhhhh, Hide?" Will said as he ducked behind his guardian's foot. "What the hell is going on?"

"Pit if I know." Ironhide growled as the parade of bots continued around the corner, a flailing Sideswipe being dragged along in the centre. Unceremoniously scooping his human off the floor and setting him on a shoulder Ironhide stomped after the sounds of the struggle.

Will stared and Ironhide felt his optics shutter in surprise as they watched the group attempting to pry Sideswipe's blades out of a doorframe which he was clinging to like it was his only hope.

"I ma ton gnittel og, uoy detsur parcs spaeh!"

"What in Primus is going on?" Ironhide growled as he moved towards the spectacle.

"Eseht sehctilg mees ot kniht I deen ot og ees Tehctar dna ereht si on yaw I ma gniog raen taht hcnerw gnidleiw cainam."

"He's glitching," Jolt said as he curled a whip around one of the blades to try and tug it out of the wall, "as you can probably hear."

"Ekil tip I ma, uoy sreggals."

"We're trying to get him to Ratchet, but he's being rather uncooperative" Arcee explained as they finally managed to pry the blades free.

"He's totally lost it man."

"Like, wacko."

The younger twins both ducked as Sideswipe's foot lashed out at them as he was dragged further down the corridor, his protests echoing back towards the amused weapons specialist and his rather bemused human.

"I ma ton gniog enasni!"


	15. A Meeting of Minds

**Meeting of Minds**

_A meeting of magic and technology- HP Crossover_

The small organic blinked as it looked around, a hand pushed round lenses back up to its optics as it slowly pushed itself to its feet.

"Well bugger." It said as it took in its surroundings, "that wasn't meant to happen." It sounded exasperated.

Much, the watcher mused, like he did when one of his inventions blew up in his face.

But then, even he had never seen a small human space bridge into his lab.

Shifting his weight he quickly drew the attention of the organic who whirled around, a small stick held out in front of its body.

"Easy human." The mech rumbled as he spread his servos in a human gesture of peace.

The organic blinked, backed up, before raising an eyebrow and looking at the stick as if it held all the answers.

The mech crouched down to better speak with his unexpected visitor. "What's your designation?" He asked as the human stood rooted to the spot, a most welcome change to screaming, fainting or attempting to run.

"Designa... oh, Harry." It said as it slowly slid the stick into a loop on its belt, "and you are?"

"Wheeljack." The mech rumbled as he lowered a servo to the ground and motioned for the human to climb on.

It regarded the extended hand for a few seconds before clambering up.

"So," Wheeljack began as he let the human step off onto his lab bench, "how did a human create a space bridge?"

Harry tilted his head, a confused look flitting across his face, "a space bridge?"

"Big purple flash of light, rushing air, big bang and then you appeared here."

"Oh." The human frowned. "That's not what I was trying to do."

"You're an inventor?" The mech asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Sort of." The human said, "not to be rude or anything, but what are you?"

"An autonomous robotic organism from the planet Cybertron."

Harry raised both eyebrows at that. "Please tell me you are visiting Earth, rather than me visiting Cybertron."

"We are still on Earth." Wheeljack affirmed. "Is moving planets usual? I didn't know humans could do that."

"We can't. But it would have been my luck to be the first." Harry replied as he found a seat on a bit of discarded technology. "So, space bridges? I'm a spellcrafter, I was attempting to create an international portkey, since normally they have a limited range and nobodies ever made a stable one that can go from continent to continent."

"Portkey?" Wheeljack asked, in all his time on Earth none of the human soldiers had ever mentioned travel like Harry was describing.

"It's a type of magical travel." Harry said as he pulled out the stick, stood up and promptly disappeared.

'Jack stepped back in surprise, even as the human reappeared with a small pop of displaced air at the other end of the workbench.

Sweeping a quick scan over the bench and the human he picked up a trace of rapidly dissipating energy, mainly focused around the stick Harry was placing back in his belt as he made his way around the equipment littering the work surface.

Reaching behind himself and snagging a chair, Wheeljack gestured for Harry to make himself comfortable again, before pulling a datapad out of subspace. Unhooking the stylus he fixed his optics on the human "so, tell me more about this magic."


	16. Murphys Laws of Combat 1

**1: Friendly Fire - isn't**

"What the slag happened to you?" Ratchet's grumbling could be heard from several corridors away, where the humans that hadn't been whisked away by the doctors had gathered and promptly crashed in an exhausted heap. The bots themselves were taking up the corridor closer to the medbay - most of them with only minor dents and scratches - while waiting to be seen by the medic. Thankfully there were no critical injuries and instead Ratchet was working his way through the list of minor injuries, albeit with a growing amount of snark as his energy reserves ran down.

Thus it was no surprise that the medic finally snapped and clipped some bot around the helm with his weapon of choice.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Even from outside the medbay both bots and humans could clearly imagine the medic looming over his patient, wrench in hand as he waits for them to repeat whatever stupid thing they had said.

"Frag off." The sound of metal striking metal for a second time echoed out of the medbay, followed quickly by Ironhide's cursing.

"Well, you've managed to vaporise a good section of that plate and blow out most of the relays, care to tell me who landed the shot?"

There was no audible answer for the eavesdroppers outside, but Ratchet bursting into staticky laughter suggested he had received an answer of some kind.

"Oh, shut up, it's not that funny." Hide grumbled as the medic continued to snigger.

"Hide, you manage over forty engagements without a 'con landing anything more than a glancing blow on you, and now you are telling me that you were downed by Perceptor?" The medic didn't wait for an answer as he degenerated back into electronic snorts of laughter; Ironhide would never be able to live this one down.

**2. Napalm is an area support weapon. **

The coughing wheeze of intake systems attempting to clear cooling vents was the only sound which could be heard for a long moment as mechs of both factions struggled to bring core systems back online. Optics began to light up as they rebooted after the white gold flash that had preceded the muted boom and roiling heat.

Rolling to his hands and knees Megatron snarled as he swept a hand over his still smoking chassis. Whatever it was had clung to the paint, stripping it and leaving the substance to char exposed metal and work its way into more sensitive wiring. Already his warning system was flashing messages about overheated relays. His fusion cannon was offline, flight systems heavily compromised and the wiring in one knee was feeling particularly scorched.

Glaring at Prime who had been knocked down not too far away he snarled before ordering a retreat, the weapon didn't look to have targeted one side in particular and he could already see both Hook and Ratchet working on mechs who appeared to have been in the centre of the blast, neither of them apparently caring about factions as he watched Hook turn to the other medic and ask something, whereupon Ratchet tossed him a tool of some description before they both turned back to their patients.

Venting heavily to try and clear some of the muck in his intakes Megatron subspaced his cannon and set off towards the largest clump of his troops who were holding each up in readiness to depart as they glared across the field towards a similarly arrayed group of bots. However the glares were quickly turning into confusion as they realised the other side was also at a loss to explain what had just happened.

The clang of metal impacting metal echoed through the ranks, causing every optic to focus on the Autobot medic and his current patient who had apparently just come back online. Sitting up and glancing around the engineer proceeded to tilt his head to one side, ignoring the irate medic who was still brandishing his wrench, vocal indicators flashing a cheerful blue and green as he considered something, "I think I added a little too much energon to the mixture."

**3. Whenever you lose contact with the enemy, look behind you.**

The con grinned as he exchanged blows with an Autobot amongst the rocky outcroppings surrounding the latest human energy resource they were stealing from. A smattering of bullets pinging off his armour distracted him for a moment, allowing his opponent to dance away as they disengaged. Releasing a hail of bullets he was happy to see the pesky minibot which had been targeting him dive for cover.

Returning his attention to his interrupted fight he frowned as he realised the Autobot had vanished. Turning in a full circle he scanned his surroundings for any trace of the other mech.

Rock. Rock. Rock. Tree. Rock.

Wait.

Tree?

Twisting around the con yelped as his optics registered the vengeful conifer lunging towards him right before he hit the deck. Rebooting his optics he was just in time to see the evergreen fade away into the green Autobot tracker as he levelled his gun. He had only enough time for his processor to register a query before the world went dark again.

_Of all the things the Autobot could have projected, why a tree?_

**4. If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush. **

"Do you ever get the feeling something is going too well?" Blackout rattled his armour panels in a shrug as Hook settled beside him, hunkered down behind a rock. "No really. It's like they aren't even trying." He said as he poked his helm around the rock to look for anymore injuries while Blackout provided him some cover.

He frowned as he watched a grey Autobot take a couple of potshots at Swindle before zipping off to a new hiding place. Hook refocused his optics in surprise, and then confusion. That had been Bluestreak, one of the 'bots best snipers and he wasn't even aiming properly. Something was definitely not right here. No skirmish could go this well. It just didn't happen.

The trembling of the ground and muted boom that rolled across the battlefield, followed not long after by a truly spectacular flash and a rapidly expanding black cloud, rising ominously from the direction of their base informed Hook that his suspicions had been correct.

And it only added insult to injury when an amused, and well recognised, voice broke into the swearing on the general Decepticon frequency, "Ooooooops, 'ope yer did'n need tha' base."

**5. All-weather close air support doesn't work in bad weather.**

"I hate rain."

Twisting to regard his gestalt mate Silverbolt vented in frustration, "the next one to make a complaint can take extra patrol shifts." He turned back to his survey of the valley that could be seen from their perch on the side of a mountain.

There was no audible answer, but the scraping of metal as the rest of the gestalt shifted around. Patience was not their strong suit to begin with, but the heavy rain which had been falling almost non-stop since they had landed had reduced the time it took for the inevitable 'I'm bored' from the usual earth hour to around ten minutes.

"Silverbolt, we're coming out hot, could use your assistance." The gestalt visibly perked up as Jazz's voice broke the monotony of watching raindrops bounce off the ledge they had settled on.

The sputtering of several engines stalling was followed by several curses as Silverbolt circled back around and transformed to land.

Raising an optical ridge he watched in silence as Air Raid hauled Fireflight back over the ledge his aborted take off had sent him over. Fireflight now safe, Air Raid gave a grinding shrug as he looked at his leader, wings drooping as water dripped off them.

"We told you we hated rain."


	17. Murphys Laws of Combat 2

**6. If you need an officer in a hurry, take a nap.**

"I can't raise red Alert or Prowl." Cliffjumper said in exasperation as he continued to track an anomaly on the perimeter sensors.

Sideswipe looked thoughtful for a moment before a smug look crossed his faceplates, "I have an idea."

"Great, so what..." Cliffjumper trailed off as he watched the frontline warrior power down his systems and enter recharge. "Glitch," he muttered as he turned back to the monitor. Wasn't that just typical, leave everything for him to do? He was about to put out a base wide request for Red Alert when the door opened and the mech in question entered, Prowl not two steps behind.

Both officers narrowed their optics at the recharging frontliner who lazily powered up an optic to identify the newcomers before bringing the rest of his systems back online.

"Told you it'd work," he said with a grin before pointing out the glitch in the sensors before they could start yelling at him.

**7. Never draw fire; it irritates everyone around you.**

"Frag it." The expletive was punctuated by an explosion of dirt and yet another blast of hot ash across already scorched armour panels.

"You know, it would probably help if you weren't so obvious." Trailbreaker said mainly to himself since the intended target of his comment wasn't listening, even as he absently deflected yet another mortar shot with his energy shield. If there was any time that he wanted Hound around to hide them, now would be good. He vented soot out of his intakes as several more mortars descended towards them.

"Face it 'Breaker, we are the easiest targets." Hoist said in resignation as he huddled closer, wincing each time something got too close.

Looking down at his soot covered armour Trailbreaker tilted his head to one side in contemplation. "Maybe the ash will cover them?"

Both Hoist and Trailbreaker glanced over to the offending bot, who was quite oblivious to the incoming enemy fire as he tinkered with some device or other, his audial fins flashing happily in a bright kaleidoscope that clearly lit up the darkness surrounding them. A perfect beacon for enemy fire to aim for.

**8. If at first you don't succeed, then bomb disposal probably isn't for you.**

"Uh oh." The pronouncement was greeted by a dead silence which was broken by an ominous beep.

"What do you mean, uh oh?" Another voice spoke up.

"The 'Oh Slag!' sort of uh oh." The first clarified as yet another beep sounded.

"That's not good." A third voice said as several pairs of optics peered at the source of the beeping, a nondescript metal box perched on the edge of a table.

"Uh, not to point out the obvious but that's a timer." A metal finger pointed accusingly at the red digital display calmly counting downwards in one of the human languages.

"How do we stop it?" Silence again fell across the room as the device continued its steady descent towards zero.

A shaky hand unlatched the top of the device and four helms leant over to regard the mess of wires and components inside.

"I'm going to offline 'Jack." The statement was met with several sounds of agreement and another cheerful beep from the contraption. "Ok, choose a colour."

Several pairs of optics shuttered in surprise before one of the mechs rattled his armour in a shrug. "Blue."

All four frames tensed as the blue wire was deftly extricated from the rest and cut: the machine gave another beep as it continued its countdown.

"Green." Another wire was snipped, also to be met with another beep.

"Yellow." Silence. The mechs looked at each other as the device stopped counting down before relaxing.

"We did it?" Four sets of optics glanced at each other in amazement before the box decided to mock them, letting out a solid tone as the display flashed at them. The thought that the device might have had a failsafe must have occurred to all four of the mechs at the same time as they all dove for cover right before the device proceeded to decimate the table it was sat on. And several of the surrounding tables. And blow off the ceiling. And create a new doorway.

**9. If you find yourself in front of your platoon they know something you don't.**

"Uh, hello?" The Decepticon said to empty space as he slowed to a stop as he realised he was alone and heading into disputed territory. Where the other two members of his patrol had disappeared to he had no idea. The ping of an identity beacon let him know that he was not alone, and that the other mech was an Autobot. Rounding an outcrop of jagged metal, all that remained of the buildings in this sector of Iacon, the Decepticon frowned. A single Autobot was lounging on a pile of scrap metal.

"Hello." The Autobot calmly said as the con stepped out of his cover, weapons beginning to hum as he charged them. "And how are you today?"

The innocent question made the con shutter his optics in confusion as he rebooted both his optics and his audios. But no, the Autobot was still there, looking not at all worried that he was about to be blown into small pieces.

"I'm good, and I'll be even better after I offline you!"

"Now that isn't very nice." The still unarmed Autobot replied as he withdrew something from his subspace and regarded it with a fond look.

"Put that down." The con ordered as he levelled his cannon, whatever it was couldn't be that dangerous if he had taken it out of his subspace, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"If you insist." The Autobot said as he placed the item on the ground and with a gentle nudge from one pede rolled it towards the con who glanced down at the strange blinking contraption beside his pedes for a nanoclick before slamming his blastmask down and diving for cover.

Booting up he rolled into a crouch, cannons already humming as he scanned the surrounding area for the crazy mech who kept grenades in his subspace.

"Where did you go?" He finally asked as he stared at the two cons he had been on patrol with before their abrupt vanishing act.

"I see you've met Wheeljack." One of them said as he ignored the cannon that was still aimed at him.

"Wheeljack?" the con repeated in confusion as he finally powered down his weaponry.

"White and green paint scheme, strange flashing audial fins," the con made a noise of agreement as the other went on, "update your threat profiles, he's more dangerous than the Prime."

"And if you pick up his signal, ignore it." The third continued, "He probably went easy on you because he's never seen you before. But attack him again and we'll be using you for scrap and you'll be explaining to Primus why you annoyed a mech with an unhealthy obsession with explosives."

**10. When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not your friend.**

While Ratchet had treated Wheeljack for many an explosive accident this was the first time he had not been directly responsible for the incident. Despite his normal façade of competent medic the pitiful look on is friends faceplates was pushing his control to the limits. So close in fact that the muffled snicker from the youngling apprentice behind him was all it took to tip him over the edge.

"It's not that funny." Wheeljack muttered as he watched the two medics all but rolling on the floor in their mirth. The dented blastmask that Wheeljack had been clutching clanged off Ratchets helm as the older medic attempted to calm down, only to glance at First Aid and start all over again.

Wheeljack huffed as he rubbed at the soot coating his paint. It really wasn't fair. Ratchet got the calm, quiet, intelligent one, well, usually calm and quiet he amended as he shot the two cackling medics another glare. But why did the other four hooligans decide that he would make a good mentor. As if he didn't have enough trouble stopping his own projects from spontaneously combusting he also had four lively, energetic younglings with no sense of self preservation running round his lab.

If he ever found out who had given the four of them a grenade (and painted a quite good replica of a mechs face on it) before instructing them to give it to him, well, he had a lot of projects which still needed testing.

Although, to be fair, it probably wouldn't have been so bad if they had known the most vital piece of information: under no circumstances do you pull out the pin before passing it to your caretaker.


	18. Triplicate 2

Because several people asked for what exactly the Praxians had got up to for the rest of the bots to be reporting them to Ratchet...

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. How many times must you be told, no racing in the hallways."

Not having seen the white and black frame Sideswipe ended up sprawled on the ground underneath his twin as they had both tried to simultaneously slow to a stop and transform.

Untangling their respective limbs Sideswipe clambered to his peds, Sunstreaker a second behind him, "Sorry," he said, hearing it echoed by his brother. Prowl nodded and waved them on with his free hand before returning his attention to the datapad he was carrying.

Walking off at a much more sedate place Sunstreaker huffed. "Just our luck he'd be out of his office today, you coming to the rec room, get some energon."

"Sure." Sideswipe said as he rubbed a hand over a dented plate of armour. Slagging rule bot.

"Sideswipe. Sunstreaker."

Sideswipe was given no warning that Sunny was going to stop and as such ran right into his back, faceplates meeting the back of his helm with a clang.

"Ouch." Sideswipe stated after a moment of contemplation. "What did you stop for?"

Sunstreaker didn't reply in words, he merely stepped to the side and pointed at the familiar black and white chassis on the other side of the rec room.

"But, you were just out there." Sideswipe said as he inched back towards the door out of the rec room.

"I assure you I have been here for the past five breems."

The twins exchanged a quick glance before they both bolted for the exit.

* * *

"Ah, Prowler, jus' the mech I was lookin' for."

The tactician turned to regard the saboteur as he approached. "What can I do for you?"

Jazz frowned for a second before smiling, "just wonderin' if ya wanted to come round ma quarters tonight fer a game or two?"

"I don't think that would be such a good idea tonight."

"Right, well, I 'ave patrol now, see ya round Prowler."

The tactician waited till the smaller bot had disappearing around the corner before letting his doorwings sag in relief.

* * *

"Prowl."

The bot in question froze, before turning around, wings pulled up in a query. "Yes Prime."

"May I have the reports pertaining to the situation we spoke of last night?"

"Ah." Prowl froze for a moment, optics distant before seemingly rousing himself.

"Of course Sir, they're in my office."

"Are you alright?" Prime asked as they approached the office

Prowl waved off the question as they entered, "just a few things on my processors."

* * *

"Well, that isn't something you see everyday." Perching on the crates inside the storage room they had gathered in to get some peace and quiet the five aerialbots were now all staring at the doorway in amazement.

Bots racing down the hallways were a common sight.

Just not that bot.

"He wasn't chasing anybody was he?"

"Unless it was Mirage, no, I don't think he was."

The five jets looked at each other again before shrugging. Stranger things happened all the time.

* * *

"Oh Frag!" Streetwise said suddenly. Blades was only able to give him a questioning glance before a hand plucked the datapad out of his grasp.

Following the path of the disappearing datapad Blades had to agree with his brother. Frag indeed.

He could feel Streets bracing himself for the lecture that was too come.

"Put me down for forty credits on 'Jack blowing himself up within the week, and twenty on the same incident managing to fritz Red Alert."

Blades rebooted his optics as he was offered the pad back. Tentatively reaching out he almost dropped it as Prowl let go before turning and wandering away.

Looking at his gestalt mate for an explanation, Streetwise simply shrugged, his puzzlement clearly transmitting across their link.

Maybe the Aerials weren't making slag up and Prowl really was going insane.


	19. Quiescent

Continuity: G1, Mirage/Jazz, Ratchet

They don't let mechs into the private operating theatres. I always thought it was a rather silly rule, after all, outside, inside, what difference? Now though, I'd rather be outside. In the waiting room with the whirr of circulated atmosphere and the steady hum of machinery and the soft strains of some Iaconian orchestral piece that Ratchet plays to keep the place calm.

Here I can hear so much more.

The hum of machinery broken by beeps and tones.

The gurgle of a leaking cooling system.

The whirring of a transformation as Ratchet forms the tool he needs.

The whine of a saw on metal as armour is peeled away.

The clang of tools being picked up and discarded in the background as Wheeljack creates replacement parts.

The soft crackle of discharging energy in a shower of glittering blue sparks.

The background chatter of an active communications link as the medics exchange data.

The steady drip of energon and coolant hitting the floor, pooling around the feet of the medics, spreading outwards with a splash as First Aid slides back to the side of the berth, something clutched in his hand.

The soft clang of metal on metal as Hoist catches him before he hits the wall before taking the item offered.

On and on.

It is worse than any skirmish I've been in.

For it is a battlefield I cannot fight on.

All I can do is listen.

For the beeping to settle.

For systems to stop stalling.

For the medics to win or lose.

"I know you are there Mirage." I start violently at the quiet vocalisation, the first words spoken out loud since they started. I frown at the mech sat beside the berth. When did the others leave?

I cross the room as silently as I ever do yet Ratchet raises his optics towards mine as I approach. Dim blue optics meet my gaze, every line of his body suggesting fatigue, his armour pulled in tight to his protoform. "He's out of the worst danger."

I release my hold on my invisibility as I sink to my knees beside the berth, no matter that the spilt energon is coating my knees, reaching out a hand I gently run a finger across the black helm and down to the grey visor. After all that I have been listening too the sudden silence hits me like a cannon shot to the spark. He shouldn't be this quiet.

Dropping my helm to his chassis I listen to the hitching whirr and growl of his systems and the steady beeping of the life support machines. As long as I can hear those, he'll be fine.


	20. Update

Continuity: G1, Mirage/Skywarp, Jazz

A black and blue patterned mech raised an optical ridge beneath a scarlet visor as a silver and purple blur of metal hurtled out of the command centre, a fusion cannon blast leaving a smoking gash in the wall before the door slid shut.

"He's not in a good mood then?"

The larger seeker untangled himself with several curses, brushing the flakes of blackened peeling paint off his frame where he hadn't completely avoided being singed by the heat from the blast. He clicked in amusement as he ran a hand across his scuffed paint, "He got his aft kicked by Prime, what do you think?"

The smaller mech tilted his head, optical band glowing brightly in the dark corridor, "that I'm better off giving him my report later." Matching words to actions the datapad containing the latest update from the scouts that he had been holding was efficiently subspaced.

The purple mech wrapped an arm around his smaller companion, steering him away from the command deck. "Even Screamer and Soundwave have miraculously been scheduled into the perimeter patrols."

The visor dimmed for a moment as its owner appeared to be deep in thought. "So what were you doing in there?"

"I had monitor duty." The seeker shrugged with a grating of gears. "He told me to get out and stay out. I wasn't about to argue with a primed fusion cannon."

"So you're effectively off duty?"

Red optics narrowed for a moment before the larger mech smirked. "I like how you think." The arm that was wound around the blue shoulders quickly moved to capture a wrist.

The smaller mech yelped as he was pushed against the corridor wall, wrists held above his head as the seeker flared his energy field.

"I was not meaning here." The smaller mech said as he tried to pull his wrists free.

"Why not here?" The mech leant in, dental plates nipping at his companions shoulder armour. "Seems as good a place as any."

"A berth would be better." The smaller mech replied as he felt his cooling fans whirr into action.

The purple mech laughed as he transferred both wrists to one hand, the other sliding into an armour seam along the other mechs side, causing him to whimper. "Minor detail."

"Ya know, when a sent ya undercover a didn' expect a find ya 'facin' with the enemy." The words were accompanied by a short range transmission.

The mech relaxed slightly as he processed the code embedded in the transmission and confirmed the others identity. "I take it you're here to pick up the data?" He frowned before glaring accusingly at the saboteur, although most of the effect was hidden by the visor he was currently sporting. "You're early."

"Yup, and such a good show it was 'Raj."

The mech shook his head as he removed a data chip from his subspace and passed it over. "Have you no shame?"

"So says the one facin' in a corridor." Jazz said as he subspaced the chip with a flourish.

"Well, saying no would have compromised my cover."

Jazz gave an amused trill before twisting to look down the corridor, "Gotta go, we got company, take care of yerself. I'll be back in several cycles fer yer next update."

Blinking at the back of the rapidly disappearing saboteur and hearing somebody rapidly approaching from the opposite direction Mirage turned his attention to the unmoving bulk of Skywarp sprawled across his legs, effectively trapping him until he came online. "This is all your fault."

Ignoring the sudden cessation of pedfalls and the sniggering laughter Mirage offlined his optics, wishing, and not for the first time, that his undercover persona could turn invisible.


	21. Drifting

Continuity: Bayverse, Skorponok

_Warning: energon leak detected. Stasis lock recommended. Yes/No._

No.

Master?

_Error: command link inactive_.

Where are you?

_Error: communication hub damaged._

Where am I?

_Error: Navigation program disabled._

Why did we come here?

_Blackout...information... retrieve... hack... organic base... eliminate._

_Error: memory fragmented. Initiate defragmentation. Yes/No._

No.

Recharge impossible. They are out there. Hunting. Chasing. Must stay aware. Can't stay in one place. Hide. Burrow. Yes. Can't track me underground.

No. Pain. Pain. Pain.

_Initiating analysis: fragmented organic material. Organic designation: sand._

Everywhere. In every joint, every cog, every servo. Abrasion. Irritation.

Master? I need you.

_Warning: core systems overheating. Initiate cooling. Yes/No._

Yes.

_Error: coolant lines contaminated. Unable to initiate._

_Warning: critical energon loss. Initiating stasis in five, four..._

Master?

_...three, two..._

Help.

_...one._


	22. Intoxication

Drabble - Intoxicated

Continuity: Shattered Glass, Prime/Prowl

"You like this don't you?"

Fingers scrabble on the floor beneath us. I lean down, my weight putting an end to any struggling, lowering my helm I smirk into the glowing optics below.

"Tell me you want it."

The glowing orbs narrow. Hatred, resentment, fear, love. Such an enticing mix.

"Yes." The single word is drawn out through clenched dental plates. My claws clench, metal crumpling in their wake. "Yes, My Lord." Better.

"Open." I hiss, lowering my chassis I cycle my own chamber open.

"You're mine, Prowl." I whisper in his audio before letting our essences meet. "Always mine."


	23. Seeking Acceptance

Seeking Acceptance

Continuity: G1 AU, Starscream

On the edge of a group of mechs a lone figure watches, always watching, since even if he stepped into the glow given off by the artfully arranged crystals they would still ignore him. Them, him, even before the accident he was only something to be tolerated, a curiosity, never part of the circle. He has always been the outsider looking in, never fitting in. Not where he was created and raised, nor here, where he lives and works.

Bored he moves away from the warm glow of imported Praxian crystal, out of the encircling buildings into the darkness of a simulated night cycle. He wanders aimlessly, no destination in mind until a voice, many voices, catch his attention. He alters his path till he comes upon a crowd of mechs. He has heard of these on the news broadcasts, rallies and demonstrations about the working conditions of the poor, if he remembers correctly it was the Kaon miners that started it. But the unrest is spreading, mechs angry that the Cybertronian council spends so much time looking after lower lifeforms instead of them. That they are being ignored in favour of forging ties with other races.

Boosting up to a low balcony he settles down with a twitch of his wings as he looks over the gathered helms. The mech at the centre is not what he expected. Gun metal grey and covered in the scars of a lifetime working in harsh conditions, but his bearing is proud, almost regal. He speaks of many things, tolerance, equality, and freedom for all Cybertronians, his audience shouting agreement and encouragement.

As the speech comes to an end and the mechs begin to disperse a quick snatch of conversation from some of the departing mechs catches his attention; they'll be back here in eleven cycles. Perhaps... yes, he'll come back, be here from the beginning. Settling into a comfortable crouch he muses on what he has just heard. Strange that he would find such a kinship with mechs he has never met, and may never see again, yet there was some power in the speech, a promise of something he has never had: acceptance.


	24. Scientific Boredom

Scientific boredom

Continuity: G1 prewar, Starscream, Skyfire

"Can we go yet?" the question was accompanied by a rattle of armour that transmitted a variety of emotions, primarily boredom and impatience.

"I'm nearly done." The answer was given in a distracted tone, its owner not truly focussing on the other mech, all his sensors instead trained on the lava slowly approaching the two mechs from the volcano on the horizon.

The growl of an engine cut across the desolate landscape before a smirk made its way onto the faceplates of the first mech.

"Anyway, the first I heard about it was when Perceptor came into the recreation room to get some energon when I was reviewing some files. He said that..."

"...and that was how the Council ended up watching Prime strip to his protoform while poledancing."

" He wha... slag! Owwww" The second mech said as he pulled his hand out of the lava he had been analysing as he frantically replayed the backup memory of the conversation. Glancing over at his smaller companion who was currently attempting to look as innocent as a sparkling Skyfire huffed as he filtered ash out of his vents.

"Ok, ok, I get it, you're bored. Why didn't you say something?"


	25. Rumour has it

Continuity: G1

Summary: Gossip travels fast, and not always correctly...

* * *

"I overheard Jazz talking to Mirage, he was wondering what would happen if he reactivated one of his special ops units. The one the 'cons named the Wraiths."

"Smokescreen overheard Jazz trying to decide if he should reactivate the Wraiths."

"Bee told me that Jazz might reactivate the Wraiths and would it not be cool if he did because the Decepticons would not know what hit them."

"Blurr said that Jazz is planning to reactivate the Wraiths and send them after the cons."

"Gears said that Jazz is apparently bringing the Wraiths back to kick con aft."

"Hoist told me that Jazz is reactivating the Wraiths and is sending them after the cons still on Earth. And did you know that the Wraiths are a five mech team but they can take out entire bases on their own. That's because they work so well together, you see Tempo and Illusion are assassins, Supernova is a saboteur, Wildhack is, well, a hacker, and Hunter is a tracker, so they can get into a base, get information out of it, blow it up and then hunt down any mechs that might have escaped. Oh, of course you knew that, every mechs heard of the Wraiths, but aren't you glad they are on our side?"

"I overheard the Autobot Bluestreak talking about the Wraiths; apparently they have been reactivated and are being sent after us."

"Dirge is convinced that the Wraiths are back and are going to take us all offline."

"Onslaught said that we are doomed because the Wraiths are already on their way here. Tempo and Illusion will offline us all while we are recharging, and Supernova and Wildhack will reduce the base to a crater. And it's no use running because Hunter will catch us so we might as well just accept that we are all dead mechs."

"Dead End thinks that Tempo and Illusion from the Wraiths are coming, in fact they are probably already in the base and stalking us all, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And Wildhack has probably already filled the computer with virus' and Supernova has probably already been around and filled up all the nooks and crannies with explosives. And even if we run Hunter will chase us down. In fact, they could be hiding in this very room."

"Breakdown came in ranting about the Wraiths and the fact that they are in the base. Normally I wouldn't take his paranoia seriously but he's not the only one I've heard whispering about this. They are even saying that they are stalking Megatron and that the entire base has been primed to blow as soon as he is offlined."

"Hook thinks the Wraiths are here and stalking the high ranking Decepticons and it's only a matter of time before they offline Megatron and then destroy the rest of the base."

"Skywarp reported that apparently everybody seems to think the Wraiths are out to offline Megatron. Of course if he isn't good enough to stop them he obviously doesn't deserve to be the commander here. But they are also saying that the base has been filled with explosives and that the computer system has been compromised. So if I was in command I'd be moving bases right now just in case."

"Starscream: convinced the Wraiths are present. Tempo and Illusion: stalking you, intention: to offline you. Computer: compromised by Wildhack, Supernova: rigged base to explode once you are offlined."

"You are never gonna guess what I overheard the Boss telling Megatron. The Wraiths are here! Tempo and Illusion are just waiting for the right moment to offline Megatron, and then Supernova is going to blow the base. And apparently Wildhack has already been through the computers and extracted any useful information. So basically, we're fragged."

"Prime, Prowl, Blaster here, could you pop up to the comm. centre, I overheard the strangest thing while monitoring the open comm. channels."

"Jazz, Mirage, Hound, Red Alert, Wheeljack, report to my office if you would, I need to speak to you about some rumours that appear to be circulating. Prowl out."


	26. Threat Ratio

There was a reason most Decepticons had Wheeljack ranked as a higher threat than Prime, and it had nothing to do with fighting ability and everything to do with unpredictability.

Continuity: G1

When the empty energon cube bounced off his helm Soundwave gave it no thought. Although throwing energon cubes was not a logical attack method it was perfectly reasonable for a mech to discard a cube after needing to refuel if any energon lines had been hit.

When the piece of scrap metal bounced off his chest he narrowed his optics behind his visor, scanning the battlefield for the culprit.

A bundle of frayed wiring that narrowly missed him finally allowed him to locate the mech responsible.

He had to reset his optics as he stared at the Autobot who had one hand elbow deep in one of his subspace pockets, obviously searching for something. Even as he watched he pulled another section of scrap metal out, glanced at it, before shaking his head and tossing it over a shoulder.

With his target distracted he took the time to power up his cannon, waiting for the optimum power to be reached before firing. At such point blank range the Autobot would pay for his stupidity. As the readouts on his HUD turned green he levelled the cannon, only to jerk it up at the last moment. The blast streaked upwards into the sky, narrowly missing Thrust as he flashed by, Superion hot on his afterburners.

Soundwave froze as the engineer casually tossed the grenade over a shoulder, a panicked wideband comm. from another mech who had evidently seen the danger scattering Decepticons and Autobots alike.

The device managed to blow a sizable crater in the ground as both sides of the conflict backed up; Wheeljack didn't even flinch at the shockwave as it rolled past him, his attention back on the arm buried in his subspace.

With no small amount of bemusement he watched as the Autobots backed up from their own mech, even the medic who was according to all rumours the engineers bondmate.

Another item whistling past his audios to land behind him - where it promptly began to emit a bright purple cloud of smoke - gave him time to consider his options. Of which, logically there was only one; get well away from the crazy mech before the next thing to come this way is more explosive than a grenade.

Suiting actions to thoughts he quickly backed up, aware of several lower ranked Decepticons all following his example and scrambling away.

Just in time as the next item emitted several sparks, prompting the engineer to fling it away with several curses. Defensor and Bruticus both froze where they had been grappling before both looking at each other, then at the innocent seeming box, before looking back at each other and apparently coming to a mutual decision. They disassembled and dove for cover even as the box removed a sizable chunk of the earth they had been standing on.

Returning his cannons to subspace Soundwave simply watched as item after item was discarded, the nearest mechs cringing as each new item hit the ground. And it wasn't helping the moral of the Decepticon troops that the Autobots had evacuated the nearby area and where watching the engineer with the same trepidation from the other side of the battlefield.

"What exactly is going on? Why aren't you attacking you fools?" Megatron's annoyed voice cut across the battlefield as he swooped down, landing beside Soundwave.

Tilting his head at his leader's battered form, obviously he had been tangling with Prime again, and since he was here and not being carted off by Hook he had probably come out on top this time. "Autobot: Wheeljack." He stated, as that clearly gave the Warlord all the information he needed.

"What? You are all scared of a single Autobot scientist!" He snarled, addressing all the troops in the nearby area. "Cowards." He spat as he stalked forwards, lifting his fusion cannons as he went.

The flash of light from the cannons was expected, the wall of blue fire and black smoke, not so much and both Autobot and Decepticon alike winced, as they peered into the smoke to see what had happened.

"Well, that wasn't very nice." A disembodied voice said as the smoke started to slowly dissipate.

The engineer was staring down at the offline Warlord with a frown as he prodded his own shoulder plating which appeared to have been grazed by a fusion blast.

"What did he do this time?" Hook asked as he waved to the Autobot medic who had arrived to yell at his mate, as he made his way over to Megatron

Soundwave tilted his head as he watched the Autobots begin to fall back, before returning his gaze to Hook. "Autobot: Wheeljack."


	27. Breakpoint

Continuity: G1, Vortex

These are the ones I like. Silent. Strong. They are a true challenge. Not like the usual mechs that are brought to me, all flashing optics and loud affirmations that they will tell me nothing. No, they break far too easily. A little pain and they will tell me anything I ever wanted to know just to get it to stop.

But this one, I run a hand over a smooth white plate. Its owner doesn't even flinch and I smile, the sort of smile sane mechs would run from. This will take much longer since physical pain alone won't break one trained to withstand it. But every mech has a breaking point. Every processor has a weak point. The harder it is to find, the more fun in getting to it. Jazz's boys are always fun. He trains them so well. But breaking a mind is much better than breaking a chassis.

My hand roams further, over the finely crafted helm and back down to a shoulder where I rest it as he watches my every move. He knows what is coming. We've played this game before. Last time it never came to a conclusion, my toy stolen before it broke. He'll be stronger for it, harder to crack, yet he must also fear what will happen. I can use that, 'knowledge is power' they say. And right now I'm holding all the keys, all I have to do is fit them into the right lock.

And this time hopefully I will get to finish what I'm about to start.


	28. Regarding Sniping

Drabble inspired by a comment on LJ tfbunnyfarm...

Continuity: G1, Prowl, Bluestreak

The whump of sniper rounds plowing into the wall drew Bluestreak's attention away from his rifle. He watched in bemusement as Prowl reloaded, sighted, and then peppered the back wall with more holes.

"I think you're missing." He finally ventured as the older bot started to reload.

"Nonsense." Prowl stated, sensor wings relaxed and a hint of a smile on his normally stern face.

"But you're not hitting the targets." Bluestreak protested.

"Blue, to be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target." That said the tactician calmly went back to shooting the wall.


	29. Better Part of Valour

Continuity: G1, Wheeljack/Red Alert, Megatron, Soundwave

"We had the Autobot Chief of Security in our hands and you just. Let. Him. Go?" Megatron asked as he ran his optics over his gathered troops.

"Negative." Soundwave stated.

"Well then, where is he?"

"His bondmate came for him." Starscream said as he shifted, obviously ready to take flight at any moment.

"His mate came for him?" Megatron repeated, his tone low and threatening as his fusion cannon came online. "You would obey an Autobot above me?"

He frowned as the assembled troops seemed to shrug and look at each other. "Affirmative." It was Soundwave answering him, one who he had thought most loyal, which made him pause.

"Who exactly is the mechs sparkmate?" he had a sudden ridiculous image in his processor of a citymech bearing down on his base.

"Bondmate: Wheeljack."

Megatron felt his fusion cannon stop humming as his optics widened. "Ah." He managed as his processor acknowledged the designated mech as one to be avoided at all costs, unless one wanted to be blown apart. "Carry on then." He said, waving his troops away.


	30. Without Words

Continuity: Bayverse,

Challenge from lj group tf_rare_pairing - Ravage and Scorponok: Without words.

Here.

He must be close.

The scent of energon is strong on the faint atmospheric currents that drift around the surface of this world.

My sensors strain as they are pushed to their limits.

A faint tremor.

A vibration underground.

Closer.

Closer.

Yes.

The ground erupts, the small particles of rock raining down in a golden brown wave.

Armour flares on the other as it crouches, cannons humming with deadly intent, servos tense, ready to flee if necessary.

Threat detected and acknowledged.

My armour rattles, lifting in a wave of spikes along my back without my conscious consent, mortar launchers snap into place on my shoulders from subspace.

Challenge returned.

Scorponok hisses, the static laced sound telling me more than any mech could pick up.

Threat, defiance, pain, defence.

He is alone. Injured. Sacred

I am well rested, able to draw on my Masters power.

I am the superior.

He must know this. I feel a growl start deep in my vocaliser.

Yes. His armour settles, cannons snapping offline with a thrum of power as he skitters backwards.

I stalk forwards, power and grace embodied.

He lowers himself, belly grinding into the hot sand beneath us, a soft chirr escaping his vocaliser as I close in, mortars still active.

He remains still as I circle his chassis, although I can hear his plates clinking together in agitation and the high whine of his systems.

He is afraid. That will not do. My Master sent me to retrieve him, not to terminate.

I flare my electromagnetic field, feel it curl around his in an embrace. Safety, comfort, I say without words.

Some of the tension leaves his frame as his field pushes back against mine. Healing? He returns, the vague sensation of pain humming through his field.

Affirmative. I respond as he sidles closer, armour brushing against mine, hot like the sand beneath us.

I feel my mortars return to my subspace, his submission sending the subroutines that powered them up back into dormancy.

I often wonder why my Master made me as I am. A beast form which is all instinct and reaction. But then I have never known any different.

Lying down I nestle my body into that of my companion as he gives a soft chirr of contentment as he slowly powers down into recharge. He knows I will watch over him as he rests.

Raising my head I transmit a short message.

Objective found.

The response is almost immediate, short and concise, as is my Masters wont.

A set of coordinates and orders to move.

A big battle is drawing near. I can feel it. Putting my head down on my paws I vent more sand laden atmosphere out of my cooling system, watching the particles blow away in a cloud.

I have no doubt I will survive, I have long been acknowledged as a fine fighter. But Scorponok is still young as these things are measured, still impulsive and reckless. And he is still injured from his last battle and the breaking of his bond as his Master passed into the Matrix.

All I can do is watch over him and hope that he makes it through, for I would like to get to know him better.


	31. Anamnesis

Continuity: G1,

Challenge from lj group tf_rare_pairing - First Aid/Vortex: Physician heal thyself.

I slowly become aware of hands roaming over my armour, dipping into seams, teasing at sensors. It is good, so good. The revving of my engine is matched by the vibrations of the frame behind me as I lean back into the warm chassis, my optics offline as I hum in appreciation.

A hand curls around my helm, gently unhooking my mask. "Much better," a voice croons as fingers smooth over my exposed face, "you shouldn't hide away little medic." The hands continue there ministrations as an electromagnetic field curls around mine, overlapping, teasing, caressing. Electricity dances around our frames, crackling over our armour as it arcs between us.

I moan as fingers brush over my interface ports. Retracting the panelling I groan as I feel a connection snap home, the rush of data and emotions intoxifying for a short moment. I am jarred suddenly as a wash of sadistic amusement is sent down the link. I frown as I try to move away, only to find I am restrained. The hands stroking along my chassis tighten, crushing sensitive wiring and slicing through energon and coolant lines, the scent of spilt fluids heavy in the air as I thrash in panic.

"Go ahead and scream little medic, there's only me to hear you." The mech whispers in my audios as my optics snap open.

I blink in the sudden light as the restraints move, familiar arms unwinding from around my chassis. "You ok Aid?" Hot Spot asks as he settles before me, concern covering his faceplates as he absently rubs at energon seeping from finger shaped indents in his arms.

"!, no, yes... it was just a dream." I reply as I feel my energon pump slowing back down to a regular rhythm. "Just a dream." I repeat as I shake my head, trying to remove the last image I can remember from my processor: a pair of glowing scarlet optics in the shadows of a Decepticon prison cell and His voice; quiet, amused, satisfied, "Do you think you can heal yourself, little medic? I don't think you can."


	32. Brig Time

Rumour travels fast in the Arc. Which is why over half the crew, (all those off duty and quite a few who should have been on duty) were currently discussing the current residents of the brig.

Or to be more precise, exactly what they had done to end up in there. As normal amongst Cybertronians, speculations were running rampant.

"Maybe they were fighting."

Several of the gathered mechs nodded at Huffers guess but Mirage shook his head. "There's no damage on their armour."

"Maybe Red caught them 'facing since we were told to keep it private while that human delegation is here." Quite a few optic brows raised at that. While the idea was a good reason for getting sent to the brig it just didn't seem likely with the culprits.

"I already asked Red, he said nothing registered on his cameras." Inferno added. Further shooting down the idea as the group tried to think of any more reasons, which for the mechs in question was harder than it seemed.

"Do we even know who ordered them to the brig?"

The rec room fell silent as they all processed the chain of command and who could possibly have given such an order. With Optimus off dealing with the humans the list was extremely limited.

"Why don't we go ask them?" The simple solution was met by a mass exodus of the rec room as the gathering relocated to the brig.

Staring at the two mechs lounging on a berth in one of the cells, who were doing an excellent job at ignoring the gathering of curious mechs, they ended up looking around at each other, no mech wanting to actually ask the question.

"Who ordered you to report here?" A voice finally asked from the back of the crowd.

One of the mechs sat up and smirked while the other propped his helm up on his arms as he lounged on his front, before they each pointed at the other.

"But why?" A different mech asked when neither voiced any explanation. One of the mechs had a distinctly smug smile on his usually stern face as his doorwings twitched in barely concealed mirth. Raising an optical ridge Prowl pulled a datapad out of his subspace and started to work, his aura of smug satisfaction not fading as he went back to ignoring their visitors.

Ratchet stretched back out beside him, hands interlaced behind his helm as he offlined his optics before asking a question of his own, his voice laced with amusement.

"Have any of you seen the twins today?"


	33. Oathbreaker

G1, Ratchet

_As Primus wills it._

Is this his will?

This?

Greyed out husks and energon stains that will never fade?

* * *

"You're a medic." The mech seems surprised, confused, as he traces the metal shard embedded in his chest.

I don't reply.

Can't.

I shouldn't have done it.

"But you're a medic." Red optics dull as he crashes to the floor.

* * *

"You had your chance; if you are not with Megatron then you are against him."

I throw myself aside as a blade cleaves through the air.

Hands scrabble on the floor as I backpeddle.

"Now, now. Where do you think you're going?"

I wince as my hand catches on jagged metal, tearing delicate sensors.

Red optics close in as the mech looms nearer.

* * *

"You there."

I slow, transforming as a mech approaches out of the smoke and ash.

"Megatron has claimed this city. You will work for him now."

I look around at the destruction wrought in the name of freedom.

"And if I don't want to?"

* * *

Slag.

Just slag.

Kaon has always been a dark city.

But now it is gleaming brightly.

Such beautiful shades of red and orange.

Reflecting back from the smoke that hangs above the city.

A tremor from a nearby mortar shot breaks my contemplation.

If this is freedom I want no part of it.

* * *

"There's fighting again."

Again?

Better to say when there isn't fighting.

When there isn't rioting.

Whispers of uprising and rebellion that are slowly getting louder.

Cries for justice and equality.

For freedom.

* * *

"Well, this is it. What do you think?"

I take in the dark metal rising up around us.

The glinting optics that seem to never stop darting around, always watching.

The careworn mechs, dinted and scratched. So many of them grey, a monotone colour that makes them blend in with the rising walls, like ghosts, already half dead as they stalk the streets.

And no wonder.

Everything about this place is dark.

Foreboding.

* * *

It gives me great pleasure, and sorrow, to be giving this speech once again. As usual it is a great honour for me, all your other mentors, and for the Iacon Academy to wish you well wherever you may go.

I know many of you have already been approached by different med-centres for positions, from right here in Iacon, to Praxus, Polyhex, even Kaon, and all the way to some of the more remote colonies. But I have no doubt that you will all do us proud.

I have often heard it said that 'It is easy to take a life, harder to save one.' So I say: no matter how hard your path, do not falter, do not look back, and no matter where you may end up, remember our oath:

_Do no harm to those around you and heal all who need it. As Primus wills it._


	34. Running Late

"Frag it, watch where you're going."

"Sorry sorry can't stop." I tossed over my shoulder as I executed a perfect handbrake turn, transformed to spring over Bumblebee who was chatting with his humans, and then collapse back into alt mode to slide around Trailbreaker.

I'm not normally quite so reckless inside the Ark but I'm on a tight schedule here as Prime has things he needs taking to the human embassy, Prowl has a load of paperwork that needs to be delivered to a variety of places, Jazz wants a package picking up, Ratchet has a delivery of human medicines that need collecting, I have a huge sheaf of paid parking tickets to deliver to several offices, mostly the twins, and it all has to be done today.

I practically slingshot around the last corner, ignoring the cursing from the vicinity of the doorway, really, if Mirage didn't want to be run over he shouldn't wander around invisible, and one doesn't usually expect mechs to be magnetised to the ceiling, although having observed Jazz since we woke up here he does seem to do that quite a bit, but then Ops are a strange lot and us normal bots can probably never hope to understand what goes on in their processors..

Screaming across the landscape I sigh as I pull up a holomap of the region and begin to plot the most efficient delivery route that will involve the least backtracking to pay parking fines for irresponsible Lamborghinis, honestly, it would be so much easier if they kept to the speed limits unless they have an actual reason and permission to be going so fast like I am, but then I got permission because the humans can never read my number plate as I whiz past them, and I might be fast but I don't do stupid things like the twins do.

Sliding to a stop in the hospital yard I am about to honk my horn when a couple of humans come over, stare at my logo for a moment before asking where I want the box putting. I pop my passenger door open and allow them to put them in the footwell, I just hope I don't run into any 'Cons out here because it's going to be a hassle to get those into my subspace without squashing things and if I do squash them Ratchet really won't be happy. Wrench throwing unhappy.

Jazz's package turns out to be music, slagger could have picked it up himself rather than send me but I suppose I was coming this way since one of the sheriffs offices is right next door and I need to give him the twins forms, and then it's on to deliver Primes paperwork and I still can't believe that the Prime himself trusts me to deliver things for him, really, me, the honest to Primus, Lord Courier, well I would be if Cybertron wasn't at war so it could be considered a moot point now.

Finishing my rounds I turn back towards the Ark so I can collect my afternoon timetable from Prowl, although I'm sure he won't mind if I stop by the washracks first, while it is nice weather, no rain or hail or snow, the sand is doing nothing for my joints and I can't wait to get under some clean water and wash out all the dirt and grit from inside my joints, and my wheel rims, they clog up something fierce, makes me wish I still had my hover form, it wouldn't collect dust anywhere near as easily and it was easier to clean and faster, this whole top speed limit thing that human vehicles have is rather inconvenient, even if I can reach about three times as high as the speedometer on my dash says I should be able to go.

"Blurr?" Prowl looked confused as he regarded me, his wings twitching slightly. "I thought you had gone to make some deliveries. Did something happen?"

Shifting from foot to foot I tilt my head as I try to stand still, "I did go out to deliver things but that was this morning and I'm bored again because I've been back here for several hours and you haven't sent me my afternoon schedule Sir."

I reset my optics as Prowls wings seemed to droop slightly; then again maybe it was just my imagination "The list we gave you was meant to last all day."


	35. Miscalculation

G1: Ratchet, Protectobots

"Uh oh." Ratchet frowned as he turned to the youngling curled up in his chair in his office who had been reading one of the introductory medical guides that had been used at the Iacon Academy, but was now staring off into space after his rather worried exclamation.

"Which one and what did they do?" Ratchet asked, by now quite used to his apprentices distraction which was usually followed by at least one of his gestalt brothers turning up for some reason or other.

First Aid blinked, his visor dimming for a moment as he spun the chair around to face his mentor. "Blades was trying to fly again, but he forgot about the mountain."

Ratchet gusted a vent full of warm air into the medbay as he repeated rather incredulously, "He forgot about the mountain." How in Primus' name did one miss the volcano they were currently living in?

"Oh, he threw himself off a ledge and finally managed to miss hitting the ground." First Aid paused, obviously having the rest of the story explained to him by his gestalt.

"A good start." Ratchet interjected into the silence, having already had to scrape the heli off the floor several times.

"He turned round so he didn't get too far away from the Ark because Prowl said we should stay close just in case, and anyway, he flew into the mountain."

"I see." Ratchet said as he shook his helm, once again glad that the calm, sensible, grounded member of the gestalt had chosen him as a mentor.

Digging his favourite wrench out of a box of tools he turned to face the door "Not a word." He warned the ambulance as Aid giggled, both of them waiting for the inevitable arrival.


	36. Final Farewell

Drabble - Movieverse: Dark of the Moon - using G1 character Punch

They brought them in last night. Some of the last ones scattered across the stars.

Hiding.

Surviving.

They have no hope, it faded long ago.

Faded as Optimus fell and Cybertron rose.

A new Cybertron built on the embers of war and the backs of subjugation.

They were given their choice this morning.

Slavery or death.

They chose freedom.

Cannons charge.

Blue optics rise.

Defiant to the last.

Light flares.

Paint dims.

My farewell is silent.

It will forever be unspoken.

For I can never acknowledge those I once fought beside.

They are the past.

My designation is Counterpunch.

Decepticon.


	37. Confession

G1 - Wheeljack, Skyfire.

"Was it meant to do that?"

Wheeljack shrugged as he peered down at the charred and fused wires inside what remained of a rather mangled device. "I don't think so." He said as he pulled his hand away with a yelp and a shower of sparks.

"Well, trust you to make it explode." Some mech muttered from the back of the growing crowd.

Wheeljack tilted his head as his vocal indicators flashed in what had come to be recognised as a clear sign of amusement. "It wasn't me."

"Right." The disbelieving tone said it all as several optical ridges rose.

"No really, cross my spark and swear to Primus, it wasn't me." The fins flickered with indignation.

Several optic shutters flickered as that was processed before somebody asked the inevitable. "If it wasn't you, who was it?" After all, it was a well known fact that Wheeljack was the only mech on the Ark who could, regularly and with little effort, bring down walls... and ceilings...

The soot dusted hand that rose in a corner of the room made several mechs jump as they realised that what they had taken to be part of the mangled wall was actually a rather dented shuttle. "I think I might be to blame this time."


	38. Egalitarianism

IDW AU - Ratchet, First Aid, Deadlock

"Ratchet. We have to tell somebody."

The medic barely blinked his optics as he ran a gentle hand across his apprentice's helm. "Who do we tell?"

"There must be somebody who would care." First Aid said as he pressed into his mentor's side.

Ratchet flared his EM field comfortingly around the young mech, fragging Council orders. First Aid wasn't ready for this. "Have you heard of the Kaon uprising?"

Aid raised his helm slightly. "No. Should I?"

"I suppose not. The Council wouldn't want such knowledge to be common knowledge." Ratchet raised a hand to an approaching mech as he kept his attention on First Aid. "The uprising was led by a miner named Megatron. The Council called it a revolt against the very heart of Cybertronian culture. The miners and gladiators, slaves to that very culture called it a rebellion."

First Aid hunched his shoulders, plating rattling in agitation. "They lost didn't they?"

"Yes. We lost."

Ratchet clicked gently as Aid started in surprise at the voice so close to them. The newcomer blinked red optics as he regarded the young mech. "We don't bite youngling." The optics lifted up to regard Ratchet, "The Council is sending younglings down to the pit now?"

Ratchet reached out to grasp a battered white shoulder in greeting, "Deadlock, good to see you still functioning. The Council doesn't care what goes on down here as long as dissenters and doubters are never seen."

The white mech shifted slightly, armour flaring, "Well, I suppose the youngling will have to learn sometime, might as well be now." Red optics turned away to regard the rough rock walls surrounding them as the mech made his way down the corridor. "No matter what you see down here youngling, you will not be able to speak about it."

"Why?" First Aid asked as Deadlock stepped aside, the corridor coming out on a ledge overlooking a busy cavern.

"Because if you do the next time you come down here you won't be going back out." The mech crouched down, optics roving over the bubbling magma, hot enough to scorch the plating off any mech unlucky enough to get too close as the heat was transformed into energy, and sent onwards to be refined.

"Welcome to mining station MV245-68H."

First Aid shuddered. "How can the Council allow this? They, they said that all Cybertronians are worthy." The young medic said in horror as he stared at the activity below.

Ratchet wrapped an arm around the younger mech. "What the Council says and what the Council does is two separate things."

"So, why, why are we here?"

Deadlock shook his plating out, amusement rippling across his frame. "Because the Council didn't realise all medics are stubborn fraggers."

"These are listed as prison colonies where only mechs who have committed the gravest of crimes are sent." First Aid looked at Ratchet then glanced over at the mech who was still watching the cavern.

"So, what did you do?"

Deadlock snorted, the crackle of static echoing as he stared directly at the young mech. "I asked for my freedom and this equality the Council spoke of. I followed Megatron." He lifted an arm, showing an electronic tag welded around his wrist. "This is the Councils equality." He turned away, jumping off the ledge to hit the floor below with a dull thud.

Ratchet sighed, vents gusting soot laden air around them in a swirl. "The Council allows medics down here every so often. Our duty is to heal any mechs that need us. It is not to question the Councils ruling." He pushed his apprentice away from his chassis, crouching so he was optic to optic, "Aid, you cannot speak of this, not even to your gestalt brothers. I don't want you to be tagged and left down here."

"But we can't just ignore them."

Ratchet stood up, motioning towards a roughly hewn ramp tucked into the side of the rock "What can we do if we end up down here as well?"

The young medic opened his mouth to reply before shutting it again, hands clenching as he turned away from his mentor, heading towards the ramp to enter the facility.

Ratchet vented again as he followed. There were times he wished that Megatron had not fallen, that the rebellion had been successful. After all, it couldn't be much worse than this.


	39. Veiled Perception

G1, Prowl/Mirage

It is Red Alerts job to protect us from external threats. It is mine to deal with the internal. After all, it would take only a single mech to put a blade through Prime's spark to ruin all that we have fought for.

And so I watch, I analyse, I calculate.

A thankless job.

But not one listed amongst my official duties.

A stirring of the air behind me and a faint scrape of metal against metal catch my attention as I glance up to survey the rec room from my corner, where I am, to quote Sideswipe 'sulking because Prime ordered me to come socialise'. They do not realise it is a perfect opportunity for me to watch them without being obvious.

Returning my gaze to the table top five datapads rest where only four were. I add the intruder to the stack as an invisible hand grazes across the edge of one of my doors before its owner leaves me to read up on what he has seen, what he has heard.

Silent and deadly, he is my secret weapon. My Noble spy.

* * *

There are times I wonder how they can be so blind. Even Jazz who believes he is my only handler is oblivious.

They moan about my skulking and spying but they never notice how deftly Prowl sweeps their concerns aside.

Even now they do not realise that he has an ulterior motive for sitting in the rec room other than being ordered to.

I place my datapad beside his stack, and step back as he discreetly adds it to his pile. Running a hand along his nearest doorwing I move away, it wouldn't do any good for me to be bumped into directly behind him. I'd be accused of trying to read his oh so very top secret duty rosters.

I lean back against the far wall, content to observe from a distance as he works.

When he leaves I will follow.

And as normal, they will not see.


	40. A New Friend

G1 - Ratchet, First Aid, Jazz

"Get back to your berth, please."

The black and white bot that had been about to make a break for the exit paused in his tracks, frame still curved around one of the berths as if using it as cover.

"Please?" The helm tipped to one side in contemplation before the bot stood up and padded over to First Aid, a slight limp still in his stride as he stared at the medbot. "And you are?"

"First Aid."

The bot blinked, visor flashing as he grinned. "Ratchets new apprentice? Huh, you already gone one better than the ole-wrench throwing glitch."

Aid frowned at the slight to his mentor, "I have?"

"Uhuh." The bot nodded as he leaned his helm towards the medbot before saying in a confidential whisper. "You have a bedside manner." Having said that the bot limped back to his berth and hopped up. "And since ya asked so nice I'll humour you."

"Jazz!" The black and white bot cringed as the designation rang through the medbay.

"Right here Ratch." The bot said with a quick grin and a cheery wave as the older medic leant against the doorframe, optics narrowed as he stared at the bot now exuding innocence.

"He's not giving you any trouble is he Aid?" The question was accompanied by the appearance of a much dented and well loved wrench.

"Now Ratch, would I give a new friend trouble?" Jazz said as he shot the younger medic a smile. Ratchet made a noise of disbelief as he absently twirled the wrench still in his hand.

"No, he's fine." First Aid said, Jazz rattling his armour in relief as Ratchet nodded, the wrench disappearing as he returned to his office.

"So..." Jazz said as he stared at the apprentice medic as he drummed a hand on the side of his berth. First Aid frowned as he remembered one of Ratchets many warnings about the odd crew of the Ark.

"_Feel free to disable the vocal processors of the twins and Huffer unless you like listening to constant moaning and if you want any peace and quiet do not let Bluestreak start talking or let Jazz get bored."_

At the time First Aid had merely given Ratchet a rather horrified glance at such a barbaric suggestion, however being faced with the rather predatory look on the faceplates of the bot apparently designated Jazz; it seemed that Ratchet may have had a point.


	41. Consequences

G1 - First Aid, Optimus Prime

It wasn't until First Aid got half way across the medbay that he realised he was not alone.

It was almost a full Earth minute (as he rebooted his systems to double check that he wasn't having a glitch) before he accepted what he was seeing.

Approaching the berth he stared down at the patient. Or possibly victim, he amended.

It was actually a work of art. Ratchet, it had to have been Ratchet, no other mech would dare do such a thing in his domain, must have spent a fair amount of time on it.

In fact, First Aid would readily admit that he had no idea where to start on undoing it all.

"Not to be rude Sir, but what did you do?" First Aid asked rather tentatively.

"I was trying to escape. Obviously, it didn't work." The mech paused for a moment. "You couldn't let me up could you?"

First Aid tilted his head, remembering the lecture that Ratchet had given last time several bots had snuck out before they were fully repaired, and their subsequent return to medbay after dripping energon all over the rec room.

"I'm sorry Sir, I'm afraid I can't help you." If there was one thing that First Aid had learnt about healing it was that the medic was always right. "Next time perhaps you should listen to Ratchet." He said with a small smirk hidden under his mask. He patted the Prime on one shoulder in a space not chained or welded to the berth and continued towards the office.


	42. Minor Details

G1 - First Aid, Ratchet Optimus Prime, Red Alert

"Well, it seems you've killed Optimus Prime."

Several snickers echoed around the rec room at the pronouncement given in Ratchet's dry tone.

"YOU'VE WHAT?" Several bots flinched, resetting their audio receivers as Red Alert stood in the doorway, sparks dancing round his helm.

"Killed Optimus Prime." Jazz helpfully repeated from amongst the crowd clustered around the unmoving body, which only had the effect of causing the security director to look even more stricken as the crowd obligingly parted for him to see for himself.

"Aid here slit one of his major energon lines while repairing a few loose wires."

First Aid shrugged slightly as he glanced up at the panicking mech. "Minor detail."

"Minor detail? MINOR DETAIL?"

Ratchet rolled his optics as Red Alert started to hyperventilate, his vents struggling to keep up with his processors request for cool air.

"Calm down Red, it's not that bad." So saying he poked the dead body of their leader.

A supposedly dead body which twitched.

Red Alert frowned.

Ratchet poked the body again.

"Owww, Ratchet! Have you finished your test? Can I move yet?" Red Alert froze as one glowing blue optic flashed on for a moment to peer up at the medbot who was crouched over him.

"I suppose. It's not like you can get any more dead than you are."

Red Alerts last view of the rec room was Prime sitting up, no trace of any injury as he patted First Aid consolingly on a shoulder, the young medbot looking extremely sheepish despite the presence of a full face mask, before the world turned into a haze of white static.


	43. A curious incident

**Or to use the full title: the curious incident of the flying groundpounder**  
Continuity: G1, Megatron, Deadend, Skywarp, Hook

* * *

"Explain if you will." Megatron narrowed his optic filters as I shifted my feet, optics firmly on the floor.

"It all started with the Autobot medic." I hunched my shoulders further as Megatrons engine growled. Then again, what is the worst that could happen? He'll kill me? Well, that's going to happen sooner or later anyway. Even if he doesn't kill me it will only be because he needs as many mechs as possible on the battlefield.

"The Autobot medic?"

I nodded. It had all been going so well. The Autobot gestalts had been forced to disassemble and would be of little danger now. The red cannon toting slagger had been downed by a lucky shot from a seeker, and Prime was too busy tussling with Megatron to be targeting us grunts. Soundwave had been blocking the Autobot frequencies and they were losing ground, their comm. officer had been downed early on, we had every advantage. And then Soundwave had just up and collapsed, well it was going to happen sooner or later I suppose. Something had to go wrong.

Megatron clicked, bringing my attention back to him as one hand idly tapped his desk, sharp claws flexing with every tap. I shifted slightly under his gaze, I am so fragged. "Explain."

I suppose if I'm going to be offlined I might as well just say it and not draw it out. "Well, I didn't see exactly what happened, just the start and the finish, but Soundwave was focusing on the comm. frequencies so he didn't see it coming."

"See what coming?"

"Wild Rider."

Megatron tilted his helm slightly, an inscrutable look on his faceplates as I fidgeted. "I see. Go send the next one in."

* * *

"Megatron Sir." I announced as I appeared, not letting the small smirk at having made him jump show on my faceplates.

"What do you know about the Soundwave incident?"

Is that what they're calling it now? Huh, I would have called it the 'curious incident of the flying groundpounder'. Because seriously I don't think I've ever seen a grounder fly like Rider did, although admittedly he did have help.

"Uhmmm, well, Rider decided that he wanted to fly." I started with a grin. "And he decided that the best way to get some momentum going to get off the ground would be to get a lift from a bigger mech, and Skyfire seemed happy to oblige."

The image file of Skyfire spinning round and round with Wild Rider before letting go replayed in my processor.

"Anyway, Rider being a groundpounder didn't think to calculate things such as trajectory or deceleration." Megatron was looking decidedly unimpressed as I brought my report to a close. "So anyway, the end result was Rider taking out Soundwave from above."

"Oh get out." Megatron growled, I threw him a jaunty salute before vanishing from his office

* * *

I ducked my head politely as I entered at the summons; Megatron was looking vaguely annoyed already. Then again he had just had Deadend and Skywarp in giving their reports as to why Soundwave and Wild Rider are both taking up space in my repair bay.

"It all started with the Autobot medic and ended with Wild Rider taking flying lessons from Skyfire and landing on Soundwave. Would you care to elaborate on what I know so far?"

I opened my vocaliser to answer, before muting it for a moment as I organised my memory files for easier access so that my report would be more comprehensible.

"Sir. The first I saw of the incident was Wild Rider attempting to take out the medical apprentice First Aid, one of the components of Defensor. He was intercepted by the shuttle Skyfire. At this point the shuttle, who if I may remind you has chosen to be a pacifist and appeared to be present to evacuate wounded, took umbrage to the attack and removed the threat. Unfortunately the removal of Wild Rider resulted in the collision that knocked Soundwave offline, thus removing our comm. hacking and resulting in the chaos that followed."

"Thank you Hook." I tilted my helm slightly at the acknowledgement; such a thing from Megatron was rare.

"Sir?" I asked as he propped his helm up on a clawed hand, resignation seeming to settle around him in a cloud.

"Why do these things happen only when I'm beating Prime?"


	44. Scientific Curiosity 1

Continuity: G1 Pre-war, Wheeljack

"What's that?"

The engineer barely blinked at the interruption, his audial indicators flaring briefly with his irritation. Why Sentinel Prime had decided that a 'bring your creation to work cycle' had been a good idea he didn't know. As it was, the youngling, one of his co-workers creations, had already almost immolated them several times.

He smacked the dark grey hand away from his work bench for the forty-ninth time since his shift began. "Look, this is combustive; do you really want to set yourself on fire?"

The youngling cocked his helm to one side as he thought about that. "No."

"Good." He picked the tongs back up and reached out towards the metal slivers on his bench, he would need to concentrate to add them unless he wanted to overdo it and have the entire mix become unstable.

"I just want to know what happens if you mix these."

The grey hand intercepted his tongs, casually picking up a handful of slivers before dumping them in the other container.

"What part of 'watch, don't touch' do you not understand?" he frowned at his charge for the shift.

"That is so awesome!" The youngling said, his own audial fins rippling with colour.

Awesome was not the word he would have chosen.

What had once been a perfectly stable compound for the mining search and rescue department to use to burn through obstacles was now merrily burning its way through his workshop floor, having already gone straight through the bench, the smouldering edges still occasionally dripping molten metal down onto the slag below.

"I'm going to tell creator I want to be an engineer when I upgrade." That said Wheeljack ducked out the door with a last appreciative glance at the fiery mess he had created.

"Primus help us all."


	45. Training Video

Continuity: G1, Wheeljack, Protectobots

"What are you watching?" Wheeljack reset his optics as he stared at four of the young Protectobots all lined up on the mech sized sofa, optics glued to the TV screen, it was rare to see any of them so still, let alone all of them at once. Generally First Aid was the only one to be so calm, but he was always to be found with Ratchet since he started medic training. The other four on the other hand, well, they were still hovering round the labs despite offers to train them in search and rescue functions from several mechs.

"Training videos." Hot Spot said without looking up at his creator, Groove waving a hand for quiet as both Streetwise and Blades leaned forward.

"Training videos?" He repeated as he came to stand behind the piece of furniture. "Training for what?" He tilted his helm, cringing as he watched two humans set of some kind of weapon that ate through a car chassis in little more than minutes.

"To help you." Wheeljack resisted the urge to rattle his armour, only his audial fins giving away his exasperation. What would it take to convince them that engineering was not for them? Well, it was partly his fault. Ratchet had said that he shouldn't let them into his lab, but he couldn't watch them and experiment at the same time.

"So what's this one?" Groove's question was quiet as he pulled a datapad out to make notes.

"Thermite." Streetwise replied as the human science show started to wind down.

Wheeljack just sighed; audial fins rippling in resignation, maybe he should let them blow themselves up a few times and get sentenced to Ratchets mercy. It was worth a try; after all, everything he had said hadn't changed their minds.


	46. Tag

Continuity: G1

The can of paint above the security room door (and Red Alerts subsequent glitch when it had 'violently assaulted' him) had been the last straw. If the fraggers had so much energy he would at least channel it into something productive, which would explain why he was looking over a group of fidgeting mechs currently waiting around the rec room.

"You all understand the rules?" He asked one last time, before standing aside from the door. "The game starts in ten human minutes."

War whoops echoed through the room as mechs scrambled out of the room, new paint schemes glistening as they took off along the corridors.

:Prowl to Red, they're off, I'll be up in a moment.:

Slumping into the chair beside Red Alert he surveyed the monitors, easily picking out where the various groups had chosen to set themselves up.

A group of yellow mechs (Sunstreaker had refused to change colours) had holed up in the armoury. Even with the identical paintschemes he could pick out Sideswipe, Bluestreak, Smokescreen and Trailbreaker.

A strangely blue Optimus, and hadn't that been a surprise when he had decided to join in, was in one of the abandoned hangers with Ironhide, Tracks, Grapple and Hoist.

The minibots, all of them now a uniform rust red had slunk back into the rec room and were moving tables and chairs to create a barricade.

A pale lilac Blaster had set up in a stairwell, with his altmode being so small he and his cassettes had obviously decided not to set up a permanent base of operations.

And the last group, Prowl blinked, staring at all the monitors in turn. The now silver Jazz and Hound were nowhere to be seen. Their third member he was expecting not to see, Mirage spent half his time invisible anyway, but the other two, not so much.

:All mechs, the game has begun.: Red Alerts announcement was followed by movement on several fronts.

"So, you really think this will stop em from playing pranks?" Inferno asked as he kept an optic on the base defences.

"I highly doubt it." Ratchet chimed in on the open link from medbay, one of the off-limit areas of the base. "The fraggers are just going to come in here with strained muscle cables and dented armour."

"I am hoping to work off some of the energy in a constructive manner." Prowl said before shooting Red a sideways glance, "Unless you wish to be assaulted by a bucket of pink paint again?"

The security directors shudder answered that question easily enough as he turned back to the monitors.

"Oooooh." Prowl felt his doors twitch at Inferno's exclamation, quickly picking out the image that had caught his attention, that of the minibots successfully defending their hideout until Optimus dashed around the corner and simply lifted up the door barricade to use as a shield and the minibots scattering behind the rest of the furniture as Ironhide started shooting at them from safely behind Optimus and his new shield.

"A pity they forgot to watch their back." Red Alert said as the monitor showing the scoring registered hits from an unseen source on all of Prime's group. Ironhide's cursing of special operations clearly coming through the monitors as they withdrew to wait for their own weapons to come back online after the hits.

"You know, this actually seems like fun." Ratchet said as he leaned against the medbay door watching Sunstreaker's group roundly cursing the cassettes as they fired blindly into the ventilation shafts, the echoing laughter from above proving that their efforts were not being successful.

"If you'd agreed to take part everybody else would have dropped out." Wheeljack said as he joined Ratchet in laughing at the twins' misfortunes.

Ignoring the bantering from medbay, and Red and Inferno having a low discussion Prowl allowed himself to relax, confident that he could manage at least two hours recharge without being disturbed by some prank or other while the pranksters in question wore themselves out running around the ship playing tag.


	47. Tag 2

Continuity: G1, Jazz, Mirage, Hound

For whoever requested a special ops followup to 'Tag'...

Jazz had to admit, when Prowl had found a human game called laser tag and suggested it as a way to keep certain troublemakers out of trouble (Sideswipe's name was muttered by several mechs in the command meeting) he hadn't been to sure it would work.

And then the 'couple of rooms' had been expanded to 'most of the base' and the 'just a few of them' had become 'almost everybody except those on duty'

That had been yesterday.

Today Jazz would readily admit that he was having fun. Normally this sort of activity, 'creeping around a base with Mirage' was reserved for missions of great importance. Thus the added bonus that slipping up wouldn't involve capture, torture, escape or anything else including any type of pain only made it better.

A light tap on his shoulder indicated that Mirage was back, the double tap on his upper arm meant that the path was clear.

Just because this was a game didn't mean they would take any chances.

Besides there were several cubes of energon resting on himself, Mirage and Hound getting through the three hours of game play without taking any major hits.

The elaborate tracking system Prowl and Red Alert had come up with registered any hits, both made and taken and added them to a big scoreboard up in the security room. But only what would be killing shots, either helm or spark, would disable the victim's gun for a short while and give them a grace period where other hits wouldn't count so they could get away. It was those kills that the highgrade was resting on.

A double tap to his helm caused him to freeze, Hound going still behind him. The faint waver of displaced air indicating Raj's reappearance before he gave his report in a whisper. "Prime's team is approaching the rec room, the minis have holed up in there."

Jazz tilted his helm as he calculated attack plans. "Raj, go set yourself up in a good position to snipe from, Hound we'll hang back. We'll wait for them to engage and take them out in a pincer, once they're all down, get out before the minis recover."

Mirage nodded before disappearing from optical sensors again, not even swirling air currents marking his passing as he moved out.

Hefting his gun Jazz slid around the next corner, hugging the corridor walls as he put each foot down carefully to avoid the whine of adjusting servos, Hound had dropped to the ground, shifting his weight onto all four limbs to better distribute it so his heavier frame didn't give them away.

Poking his helm around the last corner Jazz almost laughed as he watched minibots scatter from Primes advance, the large mech simply picking up a section of a hastily erected barricade to use as a shield as his team fired around the doorway.

Unfortunately for them they forgot the major rule of combat, always leave a rear guard, not that it would have helped, as Mirage decloaked and fired in almost one move, Prime's ID signature showing up as offlined as the mech in question made a sound of surprise.

Mirage dropped Ironhide with a beautiful shot to the helm before the mech could register that his team leader was dead, Grapple, Hoist and Tracks following not long after.

"Good shot on 'Hide." Jazz said as they ducked into a storage room several corridors and a couple of levels away.

Mirage grinned, "Couldn't really miss at that range. So where now?"

"Hush." Hound said from the doorway as he waved an arm at them before going still, a look of concentration on his faceplates.

The clatter of metal on metal was followed by cursing before two small forms streaked past the open door. "Up, up, up."

"That's cheating!"

"How? Prowl didn't say we couldn't use the ventilation shafts."

"True."

"Come back here, you little slaggers." 'Sunstreaker' Mirage mouthed right before the yellow mech stalked past their hiding place.

"Not a chance." Eject's voice seemed to come from a distance as he and Rewind laughed, mocking the bigger mechs.

"Glitches are in the vents."

"Is that allowed?"

"It wasn't disallowed."

"Slag. Well we aint gonna catch up with them here, better to try and find Blaster and draw them out that way."

The mob of optic blindingly golden-yellow mechs withdrew with much grumbling, and only when the sound of footsteps had faded did Hound relax.

"What were you projecting?"

Hound sniggered, "A blank wall."

Mirage and Jazz smirked, their lives often depended upon observing such small details, and the sudden lack of a door would have been instantly noticed.

"We following them?" Hound asked, meaning the yellow posse, as he poked his helm out of the door, keeping a wary sensor on the ventilation shafts dotted along the corridor.

"Nah, I got a better idea." Jazz grinned as he scaled the nearest wall, "If I know Blaster, he'll be staying mobile and using the vents is a quick and easy way round the ship."

"Blaster's too big to fit." Hound said with a frown even as Jazz disengaged one of his magnets and waved a finger at the tracker.

"His alt mode will fit easily and his cassettes can all carry him, now Eject and Rewind have thought of using the air ducts they'll all use them." The saboteur slid into the opening, his new silver colour scheme blending in with the metal behind him, leaving just an eerie glowing visor. "Work your way down to the basement levels, I'll meet you there."

Crawling around the ventilation shafts wasn't something Jazz tended to do all that often, since some of the turns required creative partial transformations to navigate. But just in case it was necessary he did have a complete layout buried in his processor, including best sniper positions and spying spots. All of which Blasters lot probably also had mapped...

This is one of those moments where Jazz really wanted to, what did the humans call it again? Ah yes, an evil overlord laugh. Steeljaw, master sneak was crouched down in a vent overlooking the rec room, his shoulder mounted laser ready to fire. And Jazz was right behind him, weapon also ready to go.

Really, Jazz mused as he shimmied away, Steelie had no hope. What he hadn't expected was for the quadruped to jump that high in surprise that he tumbled right out of the vent. At least he had landed on his paws before streaking out of the rec room, his enraged howl echoing back up towards Jazz.

Which would be the entire reason why he was removing himself from the crime scene as rapidly as he could, before unholy vengeance was heaped upon his shiny silver aft.

Contorting in ways that his chassis really shouldn't bend Jazz dropped to the floor, the dull thud of metal sounding loud in the quiet corridor.

He gave a cheery wave to Ratchet, who was leaning on the doorframe of his medbay, an amused Wheeljack waved back as he poked his helm over a white shoulder, his fins flashing in amusement.

A scuttling sound above his head gave him just enough time to roll, the shot aimed for his spark catching his arm as he flipped into alt mode and sped off. Either Eject or Rewind cursing him as he went.

Slamming his breaks on he performed a textbook handbreak turn, burning rubber leaving thick black tracks on the floor.

If he judged this right, then the cassettes wouldn't give up so easily and would come shooting round the corner, straight into his sights.

Or not.

Slag! Just his luck, why couldn't Sideswipe and Bluestreak have stayed away for a couple more human minutes?

Time to bail. Although with the amount of cackling and taunting coming from the cassettes, Sides and Blue are probably not going to be coming round the corner till they've finished cursing the little glitches.

So, time to find Raj and Hound.

Jazz barely has time to process that thought, the fact that a packing crate in one of the storerooms just moved, and the silver arm which unceremoniously latches onto his collar plating before he is yanked into the room.

"Took you long enough." The packing crate says; its two silver arms making it look like some strange Halloween costume.

"Hologram." Jazz says with a grin, before the illusion seems to expand as Hound creates a larger packing crate to cover them both. "You get anybody?"

"Steeljaw. He ran straight into us, couple of the minis out scouting and Raj got Prime again."

"Excellent, so, one hour down, two hours to go..."

Jazz cycled air in a sigh as he stretched; cables and gears moving with a series of grinding noises. All around him mechs sprawled across the furniture and floor of the rec room as they comparing datapads with their scores on.

"I hope you all had fun." Prowl started, agreement rippling around the room. "Inferno thought it would be a good idea to award the best players with a commemorative plaque that you can display until we do this again,"

A second ripple of agreement went around the room as several items were removed from subspace storage and deposited onto tables; energon, polishing cloths, wax and various other odds and ends all being used in bets.

"The award for most hits landed goes to Ironhide." Several items changed hands as a silver disc was passed across the room.

"And the award for most hits taken also goes to Ironhide." Many of the items were returned as the second disc made its way to the bodyguard.

"I forget that arms and legs count as points and just take the hits like I do in battle." Hide explained rather sheepishly.

"Award for greatest percentage of hits on target goes to Bluestreak." The sniper grinned, his wings flickering in excitement as he took the plate.

"Award for hardest target goes to Mirage, who nobody managed to tag." Several grumbles about invisibility being banned next time went around the room as the spy appeared next to Jazz, bowed with all the elegance of a refined noble, before retaking his seat.

"The award for easiest target goes to Beachcomber." The minibot took the award with an easy grin and a considerably less refined bow.

"The award for most deaths goes to Optimus Prime." The silver plate was handed to their leader who accepted it gravely before Prowl turned back to Jazz's table, "This included eleven separate kills by Mirage, anything you want to tell us?"


	48. Can you feel the love tonight?

Continuity: Shattered Glass, Jazz, Prowl, unnamed Decepticon

LJ JazzxProwl – Can you feel the love tonight?

The whisper of air across his sensors is the first indication that he is no longer alone. Then the kiss of a blade against his throat confirms it. Wings flare, sensors straining to identify his attacker, sharp claws wrap around the edge of a wing, crumpling and piercing the metal, leaving the sharp tang of energon hanging in the air.

He whimpers as he drops to his knees, guided by the promise of a quick death if he does not obey, the blade marking a shallow groove in his collar armour. There is still time for a rescue. He won't give up that easily.

"You chose the losing side." The voice is low, seductive, as the mech moves around his wing, the knife being twirled between black fingers. The Autobot stares at him, the glow from his visor illuminating the small room, and adding a gleam to the purple symbol adorning his armour. It almost seems to be mocking him, such a kind face, until one meets the mech upon whom it is based.

"I chose the right side." He manages, vocaliser crackling with static. It hasn't been long enough since the last time the Autobot was in here. But he isn't going to change his mind. The Decepticons might be losing, but it doesn't stop them from trying. Prime will keep his Empire under control whatever way he can, and there will always be mechs who will oppose such tyranny.

"Right, wrong, will it matter when you're grovelling before Primus?" He almost cringes at the lack of respect in the Autobots tone as he speaks so carelessly of their Creator. "Cos you aint getting out of here in anything other than pieces."

He jerks away when the mech moves, but he is already kneeling, wrists bound, no match for the other and he whines as the dagger digs into his arm, the tip tearing through wiring to lodge against the elbow joint. "I have a proposition for you." The mechs vocaliser is right beside his audial receiver, tone friendly, like he truly believes he is offering a gift worth accepting. "You tell us what we want to know, and we'll give you a quick death." The blade twists, sending pain racing up his arm as he speaks again, voice as cold as ice, "deny us, and I can assure you you'll be insane before you reach your God."

"I'll never betray my cause." He flinches as the Autobot pulls away laughing, his glossa running over the blade, leaving energon smeared over his faceplates.

"You hear that Prowler." The mech smirks, mimicking his prisoner. "He won't betray his cause."

He jerks as a second mech makes himself known, foot falls almost silent as the mech circles him, wrapping the smaller Autobot up in his arms, one hand running possessively over the purple brand.

"No mech can hold out forever, logically this means you will break." The larger mech allows a hand to wrap around his chevron, black tugging on purple till lips meet for a moment.

An almost tender gesture, before the smaller mech breaks the illusion with a disturbing leer as white hands roam across his chassis. "We're going to enjoy this."


	49. Falling

Continuity: Movie DOTM

Soundwave, Laserbeak

_Falling, falling._

_Small hands._

_Organic._

_Holding, holding._

"_Creator. Help."_

A low keen makes its way past my vocaliser before I cut it off.

I'm too far away.

Too far to help.

Not another.

Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage.

Is this where all my creations are to end?

"_No wind beneath my ."_

_Held._

_Stuck._

_What is it doing?_

_Still we fall._

"_Creator."_

Even if this war is to end here and now, in this war torn organic world, for me, it is already over.

It ended long ago.

I just didn't realise.

It's been a long time since I saw my little femme.

Before war took her spark and molded it into a killer.

If I had seen where this was going I would have run a long time ago.

_Falling, falling._

_A flash of light._

"_Creator!"_

_Fading._


	50. Scientific Curiosity 2

Continuity: G1 prewar, Wheeljack

"Creator!"

"Not now Wheeljack." The mech didn't even look up as the youngling bounced into the room, his optics fixed on the datascreen. "Shouldn't you be in the laboratories?"

He had found another mech willing to look after his creation for the duration of Sentinel Prime's ridiculous decree. Bring your creation to work indeed, Wheeljack would have been bored out of his processor after a breem of watching the datascreens and would have learnt nothing.

"Well, yes, but you see there was..." He waved his creation out with a hand, already tuning out anything else he might have had to say. He was the lab mechs problem for today.

Floating in space a quarter of a cycle later he growls, the sound lost in space, but the rippling armour plates and rapidly flashing red helm fins clearly signalling his current mood.

The youngling drifting in front of him offers a sheepish smile and an apologetic flicker of his indicators, even as the base medic finishes looking over the scorched form before gliding away, gently directing his flight with his thrusters.

:What did you do?: He asks over a wideband comm. once the medic has left. Several pings letting him know that many of the surrounding mechs are all listening in.

But then again, having a youngling blow up a large chunk of an orbital station and causing a base wide evacuation is hardly a normal occurrence.

:I wanted to see what would happen if I added something to the glowing green stuff.: Wheeljack managed to sound excited, despite having almost extinguished himself in an explosion worthy of any demolition mech.

:Glowing green stuff?: He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. There was a reason he remained in the data archiving and analysis sector of the base. It was less likely to go up in flames. At least the positive side of being in space was that the fire only burnt for a short while until the emergency systems vented the artificial atmosphere being used to simulate planetary surfaces in the laboratory area.

:It was in one of the labs.: Wheeljack tilted his helm. :And the purple gel I found was really awesome and it dissolved when I added it to the green. It turned blue. Then it began to fizz.:

:It began to fizz?: One of the lab mechs chimed in on the channel with confusion, a small reaction like that shouldn't have caused such destruction.

:Uhuh. So I added a vial of orange stuff to try and stop it...: The youngling was trying to look apologetic, but there was a strange light in his optics as he added the final part. :Then it went boom.:


	51. Checkpoint

Continuity: G1, Punch/Counterpunch

It's taking too long.

What if they've found something?

They could kill me by accident thinking I am the enemy.

I shift lightly, my weight redistributing with a whine of servos and gears as I move my hand closer to my subspace pocket and my blaster.

I startle at a hand on my shoulder. I settle my armour as I glance up at the big mech beside me. "Have you ever been to one of Red's bases?"

"Red Alert?" I ask to confirm that we are speaking of the same mech.

"Yeah, he's a little paranoid." I already knew that, but if the other mech wants to believe I am new so be it. "All the checkpoints actually follow all the guidelines as it's easier than dealing with Red on a rant."

"I see." I am spared from further conversation as the other Autobot in the checkpoint glances up from his screen.

"You're good to go Punch. The main base knows you're incoming."

"Thanks." I say as I transform, hovering above the metal street as the mech opens the gate for me.

* * *

"It's taking too long." I almost snort as my words from last cycle are thrown back in my faceplates.

"What if they've found something?" The other mech shudders, armour rippling in agitation before he flips into his alt mode.

"They could kill us and nobody would even care."

I rattle my armour in annoyance, the clatter making him cease his doom-mongering. "I hardly think they are going to extinguish us."

"Correct." One of the mechs from inside the building says. "Although we could make an exception for you."

The hovering racer beside me presses closer to my legs until I bang a hand down on its roof. "Don't tempt me." I say as Dead End backs away from me.

"You're clear Counterpunch. Sorry about the wait, Soundwave's tightening security; apparently spies are still getting in."

I nod at the mech in thanks before transforming and peeling out through the gateway. If only they knew...


	52. We Are Gods

Continuity: Movieverse: DOTM AU, Sentinel Prime

"All is progressing well, Lord Prime." I barely acknowledge Soundwave, the mech is still recovering from almost being offlined. His human perched on his shoulder, a human that helped win this war.

How strange indeed that the very species I passed off as insignificant, unworthy, as having no more worth than drones would be in part a reason for my victory.

Humans. I recall the first time I set my optics on them, so small, so fragile, and so very unafraid. My weapons are bigger than they are, I could flatten them like ants, and yet they trusted me, trusted Optimus.

I had gone offline in a flare of flame and noise as the Ark was hit. I had never expected to come online again, and not on the very planet I had once been aiming for. But if I had been expecting that, then I would have expected to see the energy converter created by the Dynasty of Primes ready to go or the Allspark waiting to be powered, to continue our legacy. Not the destruction of both of our relics and a small sentient species claiming the planet as their own.

Perhaps it was the pain, seeing everything that I have been working for falling at my feet. But I was too far in to stop.

Cybertron would be restored.

At any cost.

I still had the encrypted communication frequencies that I had used so long ago. Soundwave had answered, and how I appreciated his quick wit, even while Megatron had been indisposed, he had been working to bring this war to an end.

All I had to do was complete his work.

And complete it I did.

I tilt my helm to the sky, the sight of Cybertron filling the night sky soothing my spark.

The faint glow of shuttle engines stand out, transporting energy from this world to mine.

Energy.

Even before I left it was running low, shipments scavenged from other planets few and far between.

I run a hand over the glowing pillar beside me, even when I had been testing these there had never been enough to power more than a few at a time. Yet here I had every one active at once. It had been a beautiful moment. Even now I had a small group of them set up, a permanent portal set up between our base of operations here and Cybertron.

"If you need me I'll be overseeing rebuilding." Soundwave inclines his helm to me, a buzz of acknowledgment following me.

This is only the second time I have been back up here since we were victorious, since I took the matrix for myself.

I still remember Optimus offering it, I turned him down. I had hoped he would come around, would join me, would see that sacrifices must be made for the good of our world, for our people.

Was he truly that blind?

No.

He was never blind.

It was simply a difference of ideals.

Some rifts cannot be healed.

"Sorry." I had said as his optics had dimmed, my blade buried in his chassis. Sorry that he had not seen what I had. Sorry that there was no other way. Sorry for so many things.

I stare out across the landscape of Cybertron, structures twisted and cracked.

Soon it will be rebuilt.

Cybertron will be a jewel amongst the Universe once more. Its towers glittering in the light of a star, shining as it did once before.

The small planet, a blue-green orb against the backdrop of space, will be our salvation.

A necessary sacrifice, I will tell myself.

Cybertron returned to its former glory will be worth everything that I have done.

I'm just sorry that you won't see it Optimus.


	53. Scientific Curiosity 3

Continuity: G1 Prewar, follows Exothermic Thermolysis (Chap 44) and Exothermic Oxidation-reduction (Chap 50)

Sometimes an event can be predicted before it happens even with no prior knowledge.

Cybertronian didn't have a word for such a process until they came across organic species which introduced a new series of glyphs into the ever expanding Cybertronian language.

They called it precognition.

On orbital laboratory station beta-six-nine several mechs would now swear by Primus that they were experiencing this strange organic phenomenon.

The mech currently handling the comm. station flashed his helm indicators in a quick query as he turned to regard the data analyst that had just wandered in.

"Wheeljack."

The comm. mech tilted his helm, confusion clearly showing at his colleagues answer. "Isn't he in Iacon? At school."

A quick affirmative was flashed as the data analyst sank into an unoccupied seat. "I just. I think." He trailed off with a shrug.

"I doubt he can get into that much trouble." Helm fins flared reassuringly as the mech turned back to his station to take an incoming call.

"You want? I see. It'll just be a moment while I fetch him." His indicators glowed with suppressed amusement as he unhooked himself from the dataport at the comm. station and rerouted the incoming call to the main screen rather than to himself. Slapping a hand over the mute key he turned back around. "I retract my previous statement. Iacon Foundation Academy is on the comm."

Moving into view of the screen the mech tapped the button to unmute the transmission. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"You're Wheeljack's Creator?"

"Yes. What..." His question was abruptly cut off as the mech on the other end of the line started talking again.

"I demand that you get down here. Now. That youngling... It shouldn't even be possible. You will come and remove that, that, menace from my class."

"May I ask what he's done?" If the mech had been able to understand the differing colours and sequences of helm indicators he would have understood that Wheeljack's creator was not trying to defend his own creation. No, if he had understood, he would have clearly seen the trepidation with which the question had been asked.

"What has he done? WHAT HAS HE DONE?" Both mechs in the control room flinched as the last shout came through accompanied by a squeal of static.

"I'll show you what he's done." The visual display came to life with a fizz of interference.

On second thoughts it was a good thing that the mech could not understand indicator speak, while both faces were perfectly blank, the irregularly flashing orange was a clear sign of their mirth.

"How exactly did he manage that?" The data analyst came to the fore as curiosity finally overtook the amusement.

"I have no idea." The mech ground out. "If I knew that, I'd know how to clean it." He brushed a hand over his new paint job. The fluorescent yellow-white substance clearly remaining adhered to his chassis in a fine mist like spray.

"Just come and collect him. Maybe you scientists can work out what he did. Since the experiment we were conducting was to show the process of state changes from solid to liquid. Not solid to gas, which then proceeded to spread out through the vent system and then back to a solid on every surface it could settle onto." The mech sighed with a rattle of armour. "It wouldn't be that bad, but the stuff is radioluminescent and the entire population of the Academy is glowing brightly enough to be seen by shuttles flying overhead."

"I'll be right down."

"Good." The mech said before he terminated the conversation.

In the ensuing silence the two mech stared at each other for a moment before both gave in to the laughter which had been threatening for much of the call.

On orbital laboratory station beta-six-nine, precognition was apparently not just limited to organics and was also synonymous with the designation Wheeljack.


	54. Scientific Curiosity 4

Continuity: G1 prewar, Wheeljack

"I'm bored."

The youngling was ignored, his creator lost in his data as he sorted and analysed. If he had been a little more aware he would have noticed the youngling creeping towards the door when the thirty-second repetition of the phrase 'I'm bored' didn't even receive a flicker of acknowledgement.

He might also have looked at the comm. packet that he had just been sent, instead of shunting it into the computers back ups till he finished what he was sorting. But he was behind schedule, having just been down to Cybertron's surface to pick up his wayward creation after a minor accident in his chemical engineering class.

If he had looked at the message he would have been made aware that his creation was heading in the direction of the labs.

Which, considering what had occurred the last time he had visited, was not a good thing. He had managed, in two separate incidents, to melt a hole through three decks of the orbital station, and reduce laboratory gamma eight to nothing more than cinders.

Unfortunately he didn't look and his creation slipped unnoticed, (well almost, but the mech on security detail had done his duty and sent out a message before dismissing the wandering young mech from his processor,) into an open lab.

Dragging an empty crate over to the bench the youngling proceeded to set up the equipment as he had been shown in his classes, or at least, as well as he could recall, since some of these things he hadn't been shown how to use yet, or were much bigger and better than the ones at the Academy.

There was something he'd wanted to try since his teacher had shown them that the rare aqueous solution that caused rust on lesser metals could be mixed with some types of metallic elements and create fire in a variety of colours.

He had said that he couldn't show them much because it was too dangerous. But this was a better laboratory with better equipment.

That meant better fire.

Pulling out a closed container he poured the colourless and odourless liquid into a porcelain basin. His teacher had been quite strict about cross contamination and it wouldn't do to have it react because he put it in a metal bowl.

The lab was well stocked, with small amounts of each element numbered and stacked on shelves. Thus it was easy enough to find the one his teacher had used and pull it out.

Throwing a small amount of the first metal into the solution he grinned as it fizzed in a slow reaction. He'd found the right group of metals.

Now all he had to do was work out which was the strongest of the group. Looking over the labels he finally pulled one of them out and opened the lid.

Tossing some into the container he grinned as it reacted more violently, fizzing as it made contact with the liquid and the excess gases burst into flame, burning a faintly lilac colour.

Maybe if he put some of the stronger metals in the fire would be even better. Well, it wouldn't hurt to try.

Snatching up another container he unscrewed the lid and tossed a handful of the metal at the liquid.

"And what did you learn this time?"

Wheeljack blinked up at his creator with a perplexed expression as his headfins flashed in bemusement.

What had he learnt?

Oh.

"That getting hit with bits of porcelain hurts and can knock you offline."


	55. Tag 3

Continuity: G1

For a reviewer who asked for a different view of the Autobots latest training exercise.

Ratchet sighed, no matter what Prowl said, this could only end badly.

"Oh come on, what could they do with low powered lasers?" Wheeljack asked as he fiddled with a broken datapad.

"It's not the lasers I'm worried about, it's the dents and scrapes that..." he cut off abruptly as a group of mechs yelling war whoops went past the open door.

"Were they all yellow?" Wheeljack asked as he joined Ratchet at the doorway.

"Some idiot decided to have team colours and then they all did it. Wait till you see Primes team, royal blue with red flames."

Wheeljack apparently didn't have an answer to that as a silver mech snuck his head out of a nearby vent, carefully checking the corridor for threats. The visor flickered in a quick wink as he extracted himself from the confined space with a whirl of partial transformation. He gave them both a jaunty wave before suddenly throwing himself into a roll to avoid being tagged by Blaster's twins who popped their heads out of the vent, grumbling as Jazz flipped into his alt mode and shot around the corner with a taunting flash of his lights.

"There they are, get 'em." The yellow team piled into the corridor as Eject and Rewind stopped their pursuit of Jazz and dove for the nearest vents where the larger mechs couldn't follow.

"You know, this actually seems like fun." Ratchet said as he watched Sunstreaker's group cursing the two cassettes as they fired blindly into the ventilation shafts, their targets taunts echoing back out into the corridor to prove that they were being unsuccessful.

"If you'd agreed to take part everybody else would have dropped out." Wheeljack said as Sunstreaker's team finally decided they weren't going to get the cassettes to come out. "And just think, you'd be able to shoot the twins as many times as you want."

"I'm going to go do something useful and sort my inventory." Ratchet said as he set off down the corridor, following the rubber marks from Jazz's abrupt departure, a sly grin slowly settling on his face as he finally thought about what Wheeljack had said. "You know, I think I'm warming up to this game."

Wheeljack just smirked as they entered the storeroom and started opening packing crates. He doubted many of the mechs knew just how accurate Ratchet could be with a rifle since using live rounds and knowing he was causing harm tended to clash with his medical programming. But a laser rifle was harmless...

"Not that one 'Jack."

"Why?" The engineer asked as he backed away from the large crate he had approached.

"It might bite."

"It might bite?" Wheeljack repeated incredulously as he turned to face the medic, unsure if he had just glitched his audial receivers or not.

"Well, you never know with some crates." Ratchet said as he looked over 'Jacks shoulder, his faceplates twitching with suppressed laughter.

Following his gaze the engineer froze for a moment before scrambling backwards as the crate shuffled towards him.

And then giggled.

A very familiar giggle as the crate dissolved to show Hound and Jazz.

"Should'a seen your face 'Jack." Jazz said as Hound gave the engineer a hand up off the floor where he had tripped, before they both made for the door. Mirage phasing into view behind them as they slipped out.

"You glitch." Jack said as he glared at his still sniggering friend. "You knew they were there."

"Are you sure we should be out and about while they are playing?" Wheeljack asked some time later as they made their way towards the control room.

"We're tagged as non-players, and even if they do shoot us, what's it going to do? I'm more worried about being run over than anything else." Ratchet had no sooner finished speaking than a blue and red flame painted semi barrelled around the corner, a similarly painted Tracks clinging to his cab as he shouted for Optimus to go faster.

Ratchet and Wheeljack flattened themselves against the wall as they swept past, Tracks firing wildly into what appeared to be the entire horde of minibots currently onboard the ship.

Wheeljack just shrugged as the screaming pack disappeared around another corner. Sometimes it really was better not to ask.

"Seen Prime?" Ratchet lifted one optical ridge at Ironhide as he stopped at an intersection, clearly searching for his missing leader. What could it hurt? Ratchet pointed down the corridor they had just come out of. Besides, at the speed Prime had been hitting he was long gone, so Prowls non-interference rule would not really be applicable.

"Thanks." 'Hide said as he jogged up the corridor only to start cursing at the next intersection as he was tagged. If the mutterings about 'Slagging invisible glitches having an unfair advantage' was anything to go by then Mirage had just made another kill.

"Well, one thing I can say, at least today hasn't been boring." Wheeljack said as Steeljaw wound between his legs, shoulder cannon swivelled to shoot Smokescreen and Trailbreaker. While having Wheeljack crash to the ground did hold up the two larger mechs it didn't help in the long run as he ran into a forcefield and was forced to turn and fight.

"Definitely not boring." Ratchet agreed as he heaved Wheeljack to his feet again as they continued their somewhat perilous journey towards the control room to watch the cameras and check the scores.


	56. Like a Peacock

Continuity: G1

Written for lj comm. Crimson Optics. Prompt: Starscream, showing off

It had become so commonplace over the past few days to see the coneheads strutting around like one of those colourful organic birds, that the arrival of the command trine didn't even get a raised optical ridge.

Well, to be completely fair, Astrotrain mused, as long as Megatron isn't looming Starscream struts anyway. On the other hand even Thundercracker and Skywarp were all but preening as they made their way across the rec room.

No. Scrap that thought. They were definitely preening.

And they had been out on a week long patrol, when had they found time to buff up their armour? They were... shiny.

Astrotrain reset his optics when the coneheads entered the rec room. The flickering of colourful wings would be enough to send any mech into a deep defrag.

"Want to place a bet?"

"What?" Astrotrain shuttered his optics in surprise when he realised Swindle had sidled up to him and was holding out a datapad.

"You know, a bet, you put down credits, you get back more credits."

Astrotrain gave the obnoxious grounder a buzz of static, "More like I lose my credits." He tilted his helm. "So what am I betting on?"

"Them." Swindle said as he jerked a digit at the seekers. "They're broody."

Oh? OH. Astrotrain felt his armour clamp in to his body in trepidation. Now he remembered. Last time they had got like this they had ended up trying to one up each other until Starscream had done something the coneheads just couldn't beat.

"Has Megatron noticed they're broody?"

Swindle buzzed a negative at him. "And I doubt any mech with any self preservation skills is going to tell him."

Astrotrain smirked as he scrolled through the list of bets that had already been made. As it had been explained to him, not only would they be trying to beat each other, but they would also be trying to go one better than last time.

"Put me down for Starscream managing to remove the throne." Swindle didn't even blink as he added it to the list. After all, seekers would do anything to show off that they were the best possible mate available. Even including, as last time proved, painting a highly temperamental warlord's throne an obnoxious Autobot orange and surviving.

Astrotrain picked up his forgotten energon cube as Swindle departed, in the centre of the room Starscream was looking decidedly smug as he regarded the coneheads.

"You wouldn't dare." Dirge said as even Thundercracker and Skywarp looked surprised.

"Just watch me." Starscream said with a smirk as he strutted towards the doorway.

Astrotrain just shook his helm as the seekers departed to cause trouble, whatever they were going to do couldn't possibly be finished before he had finished his next assigned duty shift and locked himself in his quarters to escape the madness.

"I wouldn't go in there if I was you." The triple-changer just stepped around Dead End.

"No, really, I wouldn't." slapping his hand at the control panel and stepping into the control centre he realised he really should have taken Dead End's advice.

"What the slag!" How had they managed this in so short a time?

"Seekers: showing off." Soundwave said as Astrotrain made his way to the comm station. The very lime green comm. station. "Starscream: winning."

Megatron ignored them both, clawed fingers tapping on the edge of his rose pink throne, resignation clearly written in every plate of armour.


	57. Obligation

Continuity: G1

Written for lj comm. Crimson Optics. Prompt: Soundwave - "I am obligated to inform you of my personal information."

"I am obligated to inform you of my personal information."

The heavy set mech sitting behind a well worn desk barely twitched as the smaller blue mech spoke. Sure the mech was strange, vocal synthesisers weren't that common, but there was the one optic'ed mech last cycle, several wanted criminals, the screechy seeker, who would notice another bit of insanity?

Picking up his datapad he scanned through his list of questions and mentally prepared himself to start. He didn't get the chance to boot up his vocaliser as the mech began speaking again.

"Designation: Soundwave. Model: Symbiote Master. Specialty: Communications."

"I'll need you..."

"Symbiotes: Ravage; quadruped, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw; avian, Rumble, Frenzy; biped."

"That's good but..."

"Secondary functions: security, hacking.

"I need to..."

"Modifications: flight capable, telepath."

"I..."

"No more information requested. Soundwave: will return in two cycles for induction as required."

"Right." The mech said as he put the still empty datapad back on the desk with a frustrated buzz of static. Megatron better not mind having crazy mechs in his army.


	58. Mutiny of One

Continuity: G1, Megatron, Ratchet

Because somebody said that Ratchet would make the worst slave ever...

Megatron sighed as Breakdown flinched away from the mech looming over his shoulder. Any more and the paranoid glitch would be on the floor instead of watching the monitors.

"Ratchet." He said; the mech in question turning to regard him quizzically. It was time to see if the new coding they had installed into his subroutines was all that Shockwave said it should be. Admittedly he had followed him up to the control room without a problem, but it was better to be sure (and if he didn't get the Autobot to move Breakdown might just live up to his name).

"Come here. Sit down."

Some brave mech sniggered as Megatron glared at the smirking ambulance who had obediently sat down in the centre of the control room.

"Come here and sit here." He reiterated, emphasising the command with a clawed finger pointing to the base of his throne.

Well, it was an improvement Megatron supposed as he glared at the medic who had at least sat where requested this time. He had also turned his back on the Warlord and was lounging against one of his legs as if he owned the place.

Maybe it would take the coding a little while to integrate correctly so that he would obey properly. That was probably it. After all, Shockwave had said the coding would force him to obey any command from his master, obviously it was taking it literally until it settled.

Nudging the ambulance off his leg he stared down at the impudent medic who had simply rearranged himself to lean against his throne.

"Turn round." The slagger would learn not to turn his back on his new master.

This time several snickers were heard before mechs managed to turn off vocalisers as the medic did as asked... and promptly clattered backwards off the small raised dais to sprawl in a heap.

Megatron snarled when the medic had the audacity to waggle his fingers in a wave at him.

This would not do. "Ratchet, come with me." He stepped over the Autobot and strode towards the doors. It wasn't until he was near the doors that he realised that there was dead silence from behind him rather than a second set of footsteps.

"Ratchet. Come. Here." He repeated with a growl when the ambulance remained on the control room floor, hands laced behind his helm as he hummed an offbeat tune.

"I'm coming oh Mighty Master." The medic said before his lips curved up into a wicked smirk. "In about twenty breems."

Oh for the love of Unicron. This was getting ridiculous. "Ratchet. Get over here now."

Better, he thought as the Autobot got to his feet and obediently came to stand next to him. Leaving the control room he made it halfway down the corridor before realising he was once again alone. Resisting the urge to bang his helm against the wall he cursed Shockwave for forgetting to tell him just how detailed the orders needed to be.

The medic was exactly where he had been left, slowly counting under his breath. "Thirty four seconds." He said brightly before yelping as Megatron shot out a clawed hand and latched onto his chevron.

Ignoring the grumbled curses the Warlord towed the protesting medic along the corridors to his quarters.

"I told you it wouldn't work."

"Of course it worked." Ratchet said as Megatron let go of his chevron to raise his fusion cannon at a smug looking Starscream. "Although that depends upon your definition of 'it'. If by 'it you mean has the coding settled correctly then the answer is probably yes, although again it depends upon your definition of 'correctly'. If however 'it' means that I will become a loyal, obedient slave then the answer is most definitely a resounding no. Or of course by 'it' you could mean my Mighty Masters ability to give coherent, intelligent orders than again it is unfortunately once again a resounding no. I suppose you could also mean the tactics used in the last battle since I am afraid to inform you that Prime is still alive and kicked your afts."

Starscream tilted his helm to one side, much like a turbohawk trying to decide whether something was prey or not, while Megatron just raised an optical ridge, his entire chassis screaming confusion as he stared at the medic.

Ratchet just shrugged as Megatron latched onto his arm and resumed his pathway to his quarters, leaving Starscream trying to figure out if he had been insulted or not.

Soundwave inclined his helm to Megatron as the Warlord went past, the red and white medic obediently sauntering along behind him, a smirk fixed on his faceplates.

Which only got bigger as the telepathic mech sent him a message "Starscream, Megatron: confused. Medics humour: appreciated."

His grin remained in place all the way to Megatron's quarters.

"Sit down." Megatron said as he locked the door. Last thing he needed was the Autobot finding some way to sneak out and go wandering round the ship.

Turning back around he fought the urge to growl as stacks of datapads were sent clattering across the floor as the medic hopped up onto his desk and sat down.

"Get. Off. My. Desk."

Ratchet tilted his head to one side as if contemplating whether the order was worth following before he climbed down.

"Through there. Berth." He had contemplated asking the medic to pick up the pads, but he wasn't sure whether he trusted the Autobot to manage to find some way to destroy them.

"You're right, there is a berth." This time he didn't manage to suppress the growl at the medics surprised observation as he leaned against the berthroom door looking stunned. "Seriously, who puts berths in berthrooms?" He would be having words with Shockwave next time he saw him, he had said the bot would be loyal and obedient.

"Just get on the berth." Megatron said, "and lie down." He added, quickly amending the order as Ratchet jumped up, the metallic mesh under his feet straining under his weight.

"Move over." He half expected the clatter of limbs as Ratchet hit the floor, unfortunately he was just too late to clarify that the medic was to move over towards the wall.

If it wasn't for the fact that his army really needed a decent medic (and he really wanted the bot to accept him as a berthmate) then he'd be returning him to the Ark as soon as possible. How the frag did he manage to twist everything that was said to him?

"Lie down on the berth near the wall. Remain there over the night cycle, recharge without murdering me while I'm offline, shunting me off the berth, getting yourself off the berth, in fact, don't do anything except recharge."

Ratchet tilted his head as he took in the list of orders before finally clambering back up and tucking himself into a ball on the far side of the berth.

It was a start.

Megatron stretched out before pulling the smaller mech into his arms, the medic tensed, before calmly planting an elbow into his abdominal plating, quickly shuffling back over to the wall when Megatron let go to clutch his dented armour. Apparently, his orders hadn't covered elbows to the gut.

Ah well. He had plenty of time to convince the medic to 'face with him out of his own free will. If the glitch didn't drive him crazy, of course.


	59. Temet Nosce

Continuity: G1 and G1 SG, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Ironhide

"Not going to the Halloween party Ratchet?"

The medbot leaning against the other side of Wheeljack's workbench waved a red painted hand in dismissal. "I have better things to be doing with my night than listen to bots trying to out do each other with scary stories."

Wheeljacks headfins flashed an amused orange as he fiddled with something inside his latest project. "Afraid the younglings will give you a bad recharge cycle?"

"I doubt they could manage that. Though I'm sure I'll have to tweak some of their coding so they can cycle down after they frighten themselves."

"Even Prime's going." Ratchet merely raised an optical brow at Wheeljacks latest attempt to convince him to attend. "I just need to finish a couple more connections and then I'm done for the night. We don't have to go listen to the stories, just come in for a drink?"

The medic cycled the atmosphere in his venting system as he made the mistake of looking up at Wheeljack and the pleading expression on his exposed faceplates. "Fine, I'll go, just for a couple of drinks though, and none of the Halloween nonsense."

Wheeljack grinned before closing his mask and turning back to his device, quickly splicing the last few wires into place.

"I'm done." Ratchet shook his helm as Wheeljack all but bounced out of the lab and into the corridor his voice floating back into the lab. "Come on Ratchet. We'll never get there at your pace."

Ratchet was about to reply when a faint whine caught his attention, muting his vocaliser he tilted his helm, optics widening as he placed the source of the slowly increasing noise.

He flung himself at the doorway as the innocent seeming experiment behind him sent out a pulse of energy before falling ominously quiet as it simply disintegrated, disappearing as if it had never been. Ratchet had a moment to notice that the lab benches were wavering before vanishing before he hit a wall. A very solid and very real wall. Static filled his vision as he slipped into stasis.

* * *

"Oh good, you're still online." Ratchet yelped as he booted up his optics and found himself staring into a pair of scarlet optics barely a hand span away from his face.

"I would ask how you got into my store room, but I think I can already guess that." The other mech smirked as he pulled away.

"I have no idea how I got here, Decepticon, but I will tell you nothing."

"Decepticon?" The other mech laughed. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm all Autobot." One hand casually brushed over the purple insignia etched onto his chassis.

Purple?

Ratchet frowned as he tried to sit up, but the other mech held him down, all but sitting on his legs.

"Oh come on, you have to have some idea." The turquoise mech said as he gestured to his own frame. "You're looking but you're not seeing."

Ratchet felt his processor slow to a stop as he did as the other mech asked.

"You're me."

"Ooooh, give the mech an energon treat. You got it." A maroon hand tapped his bright red brand. "Weird to see that in 'Con colours. You're not going to be like Cliffjumper are you?" The mech finally stood up, offering a hand to his counterpart. "He was as soft embered as any Decepticon."

Ratchet took the hand that was offered as he shook his helm, until he could find a way back into his own dimension, and didn't that sound strange, he would have to play along. The reports that Cliffjumper had handed in did not bode well for his survival if he didn't.

"Not much of a speaker, ah well, anyway, since there's two of us, call me Ratch, we don't want to confuse ourselves."

The newly dubbed Ratch turned back to the piles of scrap that were littering the room, "I'm giving a few of the slaggers out there upgrades. Not that they'll thank me, ungrateful glitches the lot of them."

"I see." Ratchet said as he watched the green mech all but disappear into one of the heaps as he rummaged through it.

"Aha. Found it." Ratch said as he pulled his upper half out of the scrap, what appeared to be a tangle of torn wires and plating in his hand. "Come on, it'll be a change to have some help in here for once."

"You don't have an apprentice?" Ratchet asked as he trailed Ratch back to the medical bay.

"Well, I have First Aid, but he usually ends up experimenting on my patients instead of upgrading them. Here we are."

The room was almost identical to his medbay, clean and tidy, except around a couple of berths which held stasis locked mechs, and a third which held a very black, very slagged off Ironhide, who would have murdered the turquoise medic if looks could kill.

"Oh don't mind him." Ratch said, "I turned his vocaliser off ages ago, and I can guarantee that the chains will hold." The medic deflated slightly with a sad rattle of his armour. "Optimus won't let me upgrade his cannons. They would have been much better, but no, all I'm allowed to do is repair him."

Ironhide's smirk was clearly victorious, until a deactivated laser scalpel bounced off his helm and Ratch stalked over. "Keep that up and I'll turn up your pain receptors when I fix you."

"Shouldn't you be turning them off?" Ratchet asked as he swept the snarling truck with a medical scan.

Ratch's bemused stare met his as the other medic cocked his helm to one side, "Why would I want to do that?"

Ratchet managed to withhold his immediate response; that medics don't cause unnecessary suffering, and managed to come up with something less likely to get himself on a berth being 'upgraded' by his clearly insane counterpart. "So they don't move around and make the damage even worse."

"Pffft. If they can't hold still then they deserve the extra pain. What I can't stand is all that whining and pleading as I change things. Most of the time I just offline their vocalisers so they don't scream at me."

"I prefer it if they don't move, it makes my job take twice as long and I have better things to do." Ratchet said as he kept his helm down, ignoring the way Ironhide flinched as he brought his various tools out of subspace.

No wonder Cliffjumper had been so traumatised when he returned, this place was like a bad nightmare, and he was being forced to play along, to pretend that he didn't care for the mech currently in his care, to act like the monster that was on the other side of the berth.

He still wore the medical symbols given out my Iacon Academy for completing medical training, how could he not care about his patients? Well, obviously he didn't, not if the smirk that was covering his faceplates as he roughly patched up armour, and taped up cables and fluid lines was any indication.

Ratchet ducked his helm again, concentrating on repairing the damage on his side, forcing himself to ignore the way the black mech was trembling beneath his tools.

"Done. Get your aft out before I decide to go ahead with my upgrades." Ratch said as he rebooted the vocaliser and undid the chains. The black van grunted as he swung himself off the berth, cannons whirring with a suppressed whine as he glared at the medic before he left.

"Nice repair work, but you're like Hook, the slagging perfectionist, half of that could have been left you know." Ratchet shrugged as his insane half didn't seem to want an answer as he wandered over to one of the other berths and stared at its occupant. "I was just trying to decide what to do when 'Hide came in and then you dropped out of nowhere. By the way, Prime said I can keep you, so you don't have to worry. So, what do you think?"

"What do I think?" Ratchet asked as he moved over to the berth, not sure that Prime letting his counterpart take charge of him was the best option.

"I'm thinking a second set of optics. Or possibly a tail. That would be a real challenge, but I think I have the parts for it."

"A tail?" Ratchet echoed as he glanced down at the mech on the berth. With the change in colouring he couldn't be sure, but it appeared to be Huffer.

Ratch nodded with a quick smile at his counterpart as he rolled the offline mech over. "Why wouldn't he want a tail? Not many mechs have tails; he'd be almost one of a kind."

He jogged over to the far wall, retrieving the laser scalpel that he had thrown at Ironhide not long before, flicking it on and ramping up the power until the incandescent blade became a pure white; hot enough to slice through a mechs armour.

The not-medic waved the blade in front of Ratchet's optics. "Well, you going to help or not?"

"Aren't you going to ask if he wants a tail?"

Ratch blinked, his optics flickering several times as he processed the question, his faceplates showing genuine confusion, before he stepped over to the inert chassis. "No."

The laser scalpel whined as the metal beneath it gave way, exposing Huffer's spinal struts and cables. "Trust me, he'll probably complain about it when he wakes up, but I'm sure he'll realise eventually that I only did him a favour."

Ratchet offlined his optics for a moment, forcibly rewriting coding to stop his roiling tanks from expelling what little energon they contained as the turquoise mech hummed, pulling out wires at the base of his patients back.

There was nothing medical about this. Even his universe Hook wouldn't do something so, so barbaric, so unethical. It was like the medic was playing his own little game, only his pawns were real mechs.

Ratchet shook his helm as he retreated until his back hit the wall, staring at the mech wearing his face, amused red optics meeting his horrified blue. What if he wasn't even in another universe? What if this was just his processors way of showing him his darker side?

His fingers scrabbled against the wall as the turquoise mech put the scalpel down and stalked towards him. "I should have guessed you'd be like the little minibot, all righteous slag and greater good talk. But I'm sure I can help you with that."

Air beneath one hand had him sliding along the wall, all but falling into the corridor, stumbling back into the storeroom, into what should have been Wheeljacks lab.

He needed to find that device.

The sound of his own laughter coming from another vocaliser made him whirl round to find Ratch stood in the doorway with a smirk adorning his faceplates. He seemed to glide across the room as Ratchet frantically backed away until he tripped over a pile of junk, his helm impacting the floor with a crack that had his processor throwing up warnings.

"You can run, but you can't hide." A maroon hand reached out for Ratchet's shoulder, the green medic's expression turning confused, and then annoyed, as his hand didn't make contact but passed through like smoke before Ratchets vision turned white as his processor enacted an emergency shut down.

* * *

"Ratchet? Ratchet wake up."

"Jack?" A red hand clamped around a white arm hard enough to dent.

"Ouch, yes. Who else would I be?" Wheeljack retracted his mask as he leant over the medic "You ok? You weren't behind me and I come back in here to find you laid out flat on your aft and with a nice dent in your helm."

"I... I'm fine, just need to refuel." The medic said as he clambered to his feet, his stabilising systems responding sluggishly to his command to reboot, leaving the room spinning for a long moment as they reset.

"Right." Wheeljack didn't look convinced as Ratchet looked around warily, his gaze fixing on the unfinished spacebridge experiment. "You sure you're fine?"

The medic reached out a hand, resting it on Wheeljacks arm, almost as if he was afraid the other mech was going to disappear, as he tugged the engineer out of the lab with one last glance at the silent project. "Better than I was a moment ago."


	60. Nyctophobia

Continuity: G1 Shattered Glass

Warnings: char death, possible disturbing mental images

"Primus Brawl, make some noise would you."

"Sorry." The light blue tank ducked his helm slightly as he shifted the gate into the complex so we could enter. For such a big mech he could move surprisingly quietly.

"You found a way in?" Onslaught asked as he jogged around the corner.

"Yep, so, we're to go in and see if it's fully abandoned?" I asked as I edged around the gatepost and into the empty courtyard.

Onslaught nodded as he ducked around the gate that Brawl was still politely holding open. "Come on, the quicker we get it all mapped out, the quicker we can get back to our base."

He strode up to the main door, the power grid flaring back into life as he placed his hand against the pad.

I felt my armour clamp in tight to my protoform in trepidation as I stared into the corridor, the lights flickering wildly.

"Looks nice and encouraging." Brawl said blandly as he followed Onslaught into the base proper.

:Onslaught, Swindle here, me and Blast are in through a back entrance, you want us to start our sweep here and meet up with you?:

:Yes, we'll split up and work our way to you. Shouldn't take too long.: Onslaught replied as we came to a cross-section.

"I claim dibs on left." Brawl said as he ducked down that corridor. I snorted slightly as I shrugged; waiting till Onslaught chose to go straight ahead.

Wonderful, I get the dark path, I flicked my hazard lights on, letting the soft green and red glow fill the area.

So, sweep the base, see if it's fit for use, then get back to the Nemesis. Not that bad an assignment really, just, long and boring. Better than Motormaster's team at least, they got sent out to do a deep space survey.

:Hey guys, I think there's something in the base.: Blast Off said through the comm. at the same time a tendril of fear came through the gestalt bond.

:It's probably just the lighting playing tricks on you.: I replied, psychologist coding coming to the forefront as I peered into a half collapsed room, the ceiling creating a walkway up to the next level.

:I don't think it is 'Tex, I feel like I'm being watched.:

:By what? Glitchmice?: Onslaught asked with a chuckle.

:No. Bigger.: Blast Off switched his comm. unit over to external transmissions. :Just listen.:

:Not hearing anything but your systems.: Brawl said, saying exactly what I was thinking. There was nothing that I couldn't hear in my own corridor; the faint hum of hydraulics and the occasional crunch of something underfoot.

:Slag!: The expletive was accompanied by a sharp burst of panic as Blast off tore off down a corridor, footfalls clanging against the ground, blocking out any other sounds.

:I swear it moved.: He said when he finally stopped, leaving silence across the comm. except for his frantic venting, his emotions clearly transmitting across our bond in a whirl of fear/panic/distress.

:Hold your position Blast, I'm heading back to you.: Swindle said as Blast Off finally started to calm down from his headlong rush deeper into the base.

:Thanks. Fast as you can.: He clicked his comm. back to it's usual setting, leaving the corridor I was standing in seeming distinctly quieter and more foreboding in the wake of the recent noise that had been transmitted.

:Blast? You said 'it' moved. What the frag is 'it'?:

If I had been in the same place as Brawl I would have clocked him round the helm as another wave of panic came through before it was muted, Blast Off finally having the presence of mind to get his firewalls back in place and stop broadcasting his emotions.

:I don't know, it was like a shadow, I didn't get a good look at it.:

:Almost with you Blast. Just got to drop a couple of levels.:

:Blast?:

:Blast Off?:

Now Swindle was panicking as I felt him prod along the gestalt bond, trying to ascertain what was going on. Giving in to the urge I sent my own status ping across the gestalt link, only three of my brothers returning the automated data to show they were online.

Blast Off could have just slipped and knocked himself offline, he was still clearly here in the bond, if he had been extinguished we would have known.

:No. No. No.: Swindle's scream tore across the commline, his fear making Blast Off's earlier outburst seem like mild alarm.

:Swindle! Report.: Onslaughts no nonsense tone brought Swindle back from the edge of the hysteria he was currently balancing on, allowing me to regain my footing that I hadn't even realised I had lost when the mental shriek had ricocheted around my processor.

:He... I... He was right. There's someone here.:

:Blast Off?:

Swindle didn't answer for a long moment before coming back onto the line, voice much quieter than normal. :I don't think he'll make it boss. There's too much energon, I can't...: He trailed off into static with a whine.

I felt a whimper of my own escape as Blast Off's presence in our bond dimmed. How many times had I comforted mechs who had been left bereft of ember-mates? Told them it would be alright? I hadn't known, had never truly understood when they refused to believe me, when they drifted into recharge and never powered up again. I latched onto the rest of my team, feeling them clinging to my presence as we sought to fill the void that had appeared in our link.

I had to find them.

We had to get out of here.

Whoever took Blast Off from us is still out there... and Swindle is in the same area.

I wasn't the only one to have that thought as Onslaught ordered Swindle to move, to try and meet up with Brawl who was closest to his position.

Which by my calculations also left me farthest out. I cycled a deep vent as I peeked around the next corridor, sensors scanning its entire length before I slid my chassis around, hugging the wall as I moved along.

:Swindle?: It wasn't like the keen business-mech to loose his cool, the frustration he was leaking was... unnerving.

:Just a locked and jammed door, I'll have to go round.:

:Right. Try not to take too long.: Brawl added. :And be careful.:

:Very careful.: Swindle assured the tank.

An uneasy silence fell across our gestalt link and comm.'s as we concentrated on trying to meet up without alerting whoever or whatever was in the building with us of our locations.

If it wasn't for the map I had been creating as I moved (and the sheer impossibility) I would have sworn that the walls were shifting to change the layout of the base. Twice now I had turned a corner too early.

I shook my helm slightly, what kind of psychologist gets afraid of the dark?

A yelp, cut off before it had barely begun brought my attention back to identify who was in trouble.

:Brawl?: Onslaught was quicker as his worried voice cut through the query I had been about to make.

:I'm here.: The tank sounded shaky when he finally answered. : Floor collapsed underneath me, think I dropped about three floors, I'm going to have to work my way back up.:

:Slag, you gave me a scare. Thought we'd lost you then for a moment.:

:You sure you're alright Brawl?: Something didn't feel right.

:Just dings and scratches.: I frowned. I'd always been the most sensitive to the gestalt bond and something was pressing at the edge of my processor. Something that I both recognised and didn't.

Perhaps it was just loosing Blast Off so suddenly, the link was off kilter, a void where there should be presence.

No.

Now was not the time to mourn.

Later. When we're out and well away from here.

I winced as I stepped around piles of debris, metal clattering as I dislodged things from piles to bounce across the floor. So much for silence.

I pinged locations again, the returned distances letting me compute to my relief that Brawl and Onslaught were getting nearer to each other. And I was practically on top of Swindle.

No, not on top, according to his return data burst I had just passed by him.

"Swindle?" My query was cautious as I crept back up the corridor to his location.

I hadn't been feeling things earlier, although the sensation hadn't been from Brawl as I had assumed, his fall had clouded my judgement.

I flash of colour amongst the dulled and rusted scrap caught my optics.

I reached out a shaking hand to the frame dropped amongst the debris, feeling the warmth of armour and the pulse of his ember; he hadn't been extinguished yet.

Shifting so that I could keep as much of the corridor in view as I could I slid one of my datacables out, I needed to plug in and see if I could bring him back online. He might even have seen who had attacked him.

Seen who or what we are up against.

I pulled out of his processor, venting heavily, in all my time I had never seen such thorough damage.

I had known that he had been hacked, the strange sense of otherness in the link that I could now in hindsight place, but not this.

They had ripped his processor apart, data stream by data stream.

Even in cases with less extensive damage there was often only one recourse; a full reformat, in essence a completely new mech.

His chassis might still be here, and his presence in the link, but Swindle was as good as gone.

Standing back up I froze as another treacherous thought crossed my processor: I found him. Does that make me next?

I cycled air, willing such thoughts from my processor as I opened my commlink to the others back up to tell them of Swindle's condition. None of us would be next.

We just had to keep moving...

:Brawl? Onslaught?: I freeze as I listen for an answer, for any indication that they are still online.

:He should be here. He was right here.: Onslaught replies. :But I can't find him.:

:Brawl?:

:We were almost on top of each other, and then he just vanished. I can't find him and he's not answering.:

Wasn't taking two of our brothers enough?

:Slag!:

:Onslaught, talk to me.: I demanded when he fell silent after his outburst, only his emotions letting me know he hadn't also been taken.

:Sadistic monster.: Disgust was rolling through our bond, crashing against the terror and despair that we were both feeling. :His laser core has been forced open his and his ember crushed.:

If I had anything left in my tanks I would have lost it, but I had nothing left, dry heaves shaking my chassis. :I think I'm pretty close to you. We'll be safe together:

I felt Onslaught's agreement as he turned to make his way towards me, both of us creeping along, sensors attuned to the smallest of noises.

Even with my fans manually over-ridden every step seemed excessively loud, echoing, giving away my position. I stumbled, reaching out a hand for the wall as a wave of pain slammed into me, a tortured scream resounding down the corridor, echoing back and forth.

I reached the corner, my armour plates clattering together as I peered around it. I tried to speak, only to get a buzz of static as my processor refused to accept what it was seeing.

"Tex." Onslaught said with a rattling intake of atmosphere as his systems tried to work with half of them torn out. "Run."

I shook my helm.

Disbelief?

Denial?

I don't know.

He was fading.

My last bond evaporating like it was never there.

My last link to sanity, leaving me alone.

So very alone.

No.

Not alone.

Back pressed to the wall I let my optics roam over every crevice in the walls.

"Go on 'Tex. Run." I whimper as the mocking whisper carries down the corridor, its owner still unknown.

I stumbled away, the scornful voice following me. "Run, Decepticon."

Run where?

I laughed as I came to a stop, the sort of laughter of a mech who knows they have nothing left to loose, as I slid to my knees.

The type of laughter that would have had me committing any other mech to a padded cell.

"It's too late now." My voice sounded ragged to my own audios, glitching with static as I spoke. "I have no reason to run."

A dark frame seemed to materialise out of the shadows, the Autobot, for the other mech was clearly an Autobot, his leering purple brand a mere confirmation of that fact, grinned.

There was nothing sane in his face as he twirled a blade between his fingers, the weapon flashing scarlet as it reflected the light from his optics.

"It's never too late, Decepticon." The smirk was sadistic in its entirety as the Autobot ran the blade across my cheek, energon welling beneath it to drip across my plating as the mech leant down, voice filled with a promise of pain. "You should have run."

Perhaps I should. But the darkness has stopped being terrifying, holding secrets and shapes I cannot see.

I tilt my helm up to regard the Autobot, a soft smile settling over my face.

Now the darkness is something I will eagerly embrace.


	61. A glitch a day, keeps the medic away

Continuity: G1, Ratchet, Red Alert

What the frag is going on?" Ratchet's demand silenced the medbay as every helm turned to regard the CMO. And this is why he didn't like leaving his medbay for large periods of time; something always went wrong while he was away.

"We were just doing our job and this lunatic goes absolutely insane." "He just attacked us." "You didn't say you had any violent patients."

The voices overlapped as Ratchet strode across his domain. "You must have done som... slag." He froze as he realised who was laid out on one of his berths.

"From the moment you walked in, report." He said as he glared at the medics from the units and battalions passing through Iacon's central base. Slaggers did nothing but clutter up his medbay, he'd be glad when they had moved on to their next post and Aid and Hoist were both back from assignments.

"Well, he asked for you, but we can deal with processor glitches so we offered to take a look into his coding and that's when he tried to attack us. We sedated him before he killed us."

"Did you not read the report before you tried to treat him, or am I wasting my time keeping my medical logs up to date?" For those well versed in 'Ratchet' speak, now was the time to be running. "Never mind. Get out."

He allowed a brief smirk to cross his features as all three of them scrambled for the exit.

Turning back to the still form of Red Alert he huffed in resignation. This was not going to be fun.

He unhooked the restraints that had been looped around his limbs, awakening to that wouldn't help. His scans showed that the sedative had been isolated by his system and was being filtered out of his energon, in fact, he should be returning to his senses around now.

But this wasn't the first time Red had ended up in his medbay like this and probably wouldn't be the last. He was going to have to draw Red out of his own processor. If they had just read the report...

He pulled a stool over to the berthside and made himself comfortable as he pinged the door to close and lock and sent out a basewide notice to stay away unless spark extinguishing is imminent.

'Just offered to look at his code,' indeed, perfect thing to say to a mech who is terrified of medics. It had taken Red long enough to even sit with them outside of medbay, let alone consent to be treated without completely glitching. But at least Hoist and Aid know well enough to call for help rather than send him into a panic.

He unravelled his datacable and ran a hand round Red's neck, finding the hidden medical port with an ease of long practice. Pausing he took a moment to set an automated message in the medical logs, just in case, before pushing the connector in.

He mentally stumbled as the processor he was connecting to had stronger than average firewalls than the majority of mechs. And this was only the outer layer.

It was a good thing this wasn't the first time he had done this, as it meant he was expecting the coding which attempted to insert itself into his with malicious intent. There was a reason even Soundwave stayed out of Red's mind.

The first firewall dropped as he fought his way through, glad of the long ago classes when he was training that had taught ways to bypass firewalls known only to medics and hackers.

A pity that Red was an expert hacker.

Despite the gravity of the situation Ratchet felt a brief moment of excitement. It was a pity Red was not one to engage in strategy games, for he had a quick mind with a flexibility even Prowl was lacking.

"Out!" The glyphs seemed to appear amongst the coding as another firewall dropped. Red was aware of his presence. He had withdrawn into his own personality programming, better to protect himself and the coding for his core systems.

The next barrier dropped far too early, removed from within rather than disabled by Ratchet as Red realised that his mind was being invaded by a mech skilled enough to navigate even his defences.

"Who?" The question was accompanied by a quick mental probe, lashing out at Ratchet's processor, withdrawing abruptly when he ran into Ratchet's own firewalls.

Firewalls which included the glyphs denoting Ratchet as a medic. Usually they reassured mechs as they realised that Ratchet was not a threat. That he was trying to help.

It was not in any way reassuring to a mech who hated and feared medics for exactly this reason; their ability to get into a mechs processor, to change coding and protocols without any warning, without any consent.

"Get out, get out, GET OUT!" Ratchet strengthened his own firewalls as Red Alert lashed out at him, trying to break through his defences, to make Ratchet withdraw to protect himself.

But that wouldn't help, as Red would withdraw into his own mind again as soon as Ratchet left. No. he needed to force Red to realise that the only way he was leaving was if Red separated the data cables, manually ejecting Ratchet from his processor. To do that he needed to be online and aware.

Ratchet had to give Red Alert credit for being able to go from buried in his processor to online in only a few seconds. He barely had time to react to being unlinked as red ripped the connection out of his dataport with a feral snarl as he hurled himself at the medic, his cannon already charging as the two mechs hit the floor in a clanging of metal limbs. Ratchet hissed in pain as his helm slammed into the ground, the muzzle of the cannon being jammed under his chin not a second later.

"Ratchet?" Red sounded confused as he moved the cannon and scrambled to his feet, his optics darting around the empty medbay.

"I sent them away." Ratchet said, correctly guessing who Red was looking for as he probed the dent in the back of his helm.

"I'm sorry?" Red Alert said as he offered a hand to Ratchet.

"S'okay Red. No harm done." He flicked his scanners over the mech, glad that he appeared to be running normally. "Go on, you're fine." He waited till Red Alert had left the medbay before sitting down heavily on a berth, rubbing at the paint at his neck that had melted with the heat of the cannon.

It could have been worse. Last time he had ended up making use of one of his own berths while Aid patched him up.

A dented helm and ruined paintjob were a small price to pay.


	62. Becoming One

Continuity, G1, Jazz & Mirage - Five Firsts

**First Meeting**

"You are Jazz?" The tone conveyed the speakers disbelief, causing the saboteur to spin around in surprise. A tall blue and white mech was staring down his olfactory sensors at him, the gold inlay gleaming as he brushed a hand across imagined dust on his chassis.

"I am, and you are?"

The noble, for he could only be a noble, raised his helm even more. "I am Mirage."

It was all Jazz could do not to gape. Command had sent him some slagging unsuitable mechs to train for his operations department in the past, but this was beyond a joke.

**First Training Session**

Well, maybe he wasn't totally unsuitable, Jazz mused as he tracked the noble around the holographic arena. If he could be broken of his bad habits he had the makings of a good operative, quick, flexible, and with a rare mod few could afford, let alone have a compatible processor.

On the other hand his pride could probably power most of Iacon, he wasn't even watching his own back.

"How could you find me? I was invisible!" Jazz snorted as the mech stared up at him in disbelief, still not noticing the dusty footprints still clearly visible in the sand.

**First Kill**

"Finish him."

"What?

"What part of that was unclear?" The saboteur hissed at his partner.

"He's unarmed and offline." The protest was one Jazz had heard many times.

"If he comes back online he can alert the entire base to our presence."

It was one thing to kill in training, but this was the true test of a mechs resolve. He didn't want to lose such a promising candidate so late on, but if he couldn't do what was necessary and without breaking down afterwards...

"Done." The noble said, cleaning his energon dagger as he stepped over the extinguished frame.

**First Interface**

He would never have been able to do this. Before the war Mirage would never have even looked at him, let alone consented to swap electrons.

But that was then and this is now. For war has a habit of tearing things down.

Energy fields entwine, caressing and fighting with each other.

Hands sweep across plating, delving into seams to find pressure sensors.

Fingers tease at hidden data access ports, tantalising, promising.

Plugging in it is all Jazz can do to keep his triumph in check as Mirage completes the connection, data flashing between them in a haze of pleasure.

**First Sparkmerge**

He hadn't trusted any mech this much for a long time, not even Prowl who he trusted to set up their missions or Ratchet who saw to their disguises and injuries.

Yet somehow he trusted the noble mech like no other.

Looking down at Mirage below him, his spark chamber open, he could see the same emotion reflected in his optics.

Cycling his own chamber open Jazz lowered his frame.

Tendrils of energy reached out to bridge the gap, entwining, until they were frame to frame, finally merging.

Knowing - truth.

Seeing - dreams.

Sharing - everything.

Becoming - one.


	63. Subtlety

Continuity, G1

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Autobot Jazz."

The Decepticon smirked under his faceplates as the Autobot raised his helm to stare at him.

"I think you failed." He said with a flare of amusement in his electromagnetic field, letting it wash over the Autobot as he raised a hand to poke the captive's chest plating.

"That would depend what I was doing." The small black and white mech said as he shifted his feet, rattling the chains.

"You were sneaking about my base. I caught you. Therefore whatever information you came to get, well, can't take it back to your little Autobot buddies now can you?"

The Autobots energy field didn't change, even as he tilted his helm to one side, a small smile appearing on his face plates. "Who says that I came for information, I could have come to check out the cells."

He almost had to reset his audios at the answer as his processor started to calculate the possibilities that the Autobot had indeed come to check out the cells, before the utter improbability of the statement registered.

"The truth if you would Autobot. Or I can make this very... unpleasant for you."

"Fine, fine, I came to extinguish you so that the base descended into chaos and the Autobot stronghold to the North could launch an attack with a higher probability of success and a reduced number of casualties."

"Right. And what were you looking for in the base computer?"

"Passing time." He frowned as the Autobot's field registered sincerity and a hint of amusement. Damn glitch was finding it funny that he had been captured.

"Of course. And what did you find while you were - passing time?"

The black and white mech grinned, "I found that some mech had uploaded a copy of Stronghold onto your server."

He resisted the urge to bang his helm against the wall as the smaller mech sniggered. "You aren't even taking your capture seriously."

"Nope, can't say I am." The helm canted to one side again, visor glowing as the Autobot stared at him. "But you should really be taking me seriously."

The Decepticon raised one heavy optical ridge. "And why, pray tell, should I be taking a mech in chains seriously, you are in no position to do anything."

"But I am."

The words were barely heard as fire seemed to pierce his chassis, burning through his energon lines as he slid to his knees, limbs no longer responding to his commands.

He hadn't even heard the other mech, not even a flicker of his energy field or the soft ring of metal feet on the floor.

Squinting through optics slowly losing focus he could make out the shape of a tall mech, all clean lines and sleek plating as he paced around him to free the other Autobot.

He chuckled. The sound a mere whisper of static as his last vision was of the famous Autobot assassin staring dispassionately down at him, energon blade still held in one hand.

And all his troops would see when they came to look for him is empty chains and his grey frame, having been overpowered and extinguished by an escaping prisoner, not a premeditated tactical murder that would herald a major offensive against the base.

Well played Autobots, well played.


	64. It went like this

Continuity, G1, Jazz, Mirage, Prowl - dialogue only fic.

Ravage caused this?... perhaps it would be best if we start from the beginning.

Uhhhm, k, sure. You meanin' the start of the mission Prowler, or the start of us being chased?

I would presume he means start from the point we entered the Nemesis, Commander.

That would be a logical place to start Mirage, if you would Jazz.

Right. K then. Well, we made it onto the Nemesis through that hatch in sector D4 that 'Raj scouted out a couple a human months ago. You'd think the 'cons would do a bit more maintenance, I mean; it's a wonder that the entire ship ain't underwater by now.

The mission Jazz, if you would.

Sorry, but you should have seen some of the cracks in the walls Prowler, Red would'a gone into meltdown if that were our ship. Ok, ok, the mission, I'm getting' to it, hold yer horses. Erm. Earth phrase Prowl, delete it before you lock up. Right. Well. We got in and made our way up ta the command centre; I took the vents an 'Raj wandered in all invisible like.

And that was when Ravage found you?

Ah. No. That was a bit later. No, first we waited for the shift change before we used that stuff that Jack made. Worked like a treat it did as the mechs were all out like a light. I hacked into the mainframe while 'Raj

Made sure our sleepin' friends all stayed like that. Anyway, havin' what we came for we started back towards the exit.

And were discovered?

Nope. We came across the slaggin' structies weldin' up the hatch we came in. Accordin' to Scrapper's moaning it just showed up on the scans.

Obviously Sir, our entrance caused the hatch to lose what little structural integrity it may have once had and began to leak.

That's what I said 'Raj. So, yeah, we needed a new way off the ship that wouldn't draw too much attention.

You failed.

Well, yeah, thanks fer that reminder Prowler, but that ain't really our fault. Megsy found his bridge clue all still sleepin' on the job an ordered a full search of the ship.

I see, so you were found during this search?

Oh quit yer snickerin' 'Raj, just cos you can go slaggin' invisible. And yeah, I got caught on the search. Well, I got spotted by the search teams, I didn't get caught. Instead I ran round the Nemesis a few times, using all the vents and stuff that I've mapped out while 'Raj went and hacked the controls to open us a hatchway out of the place. Anyway, we finally got a way out and I was on approach right when Onslaught and his gestalt turned up to check the corridor.

They saw you.

Saw me? Pit, I ran right into em. Them round one corner, me round the other. Anyway, I took care of them and we hopped out the hatch and started back to the Ark.

What the Commander is not saying is that he used the spare canister of gas that Wheeljack gave us but forgot to lock down his intake vents and knocked himself out as well.

Thanks 'Raj, nice ta know I can count on you ta keep my secrets.

Your welcome Sir.

Anyway. As I was saying before the interruption. We made it off the Nemesis but had to take the long route back.

You mean Mirage carried your offline chassis across the ocean floor.

No, I woke up.

Yes Sir, for most of the way.

You are going to get the worst patrols I can find 'Raj, you traitor. Anyway. I woke up. And that's when we realised that Ravage had followed us. Traitorous glitch here went invisible again and left me alone, finally lost the fraggin' cat in a load of kelp when I neared the coast, since he couldn't follow my scent trail underwater.

And that led to your current predicament?

Yes Prowler, that is why I have seaweed stuck up my exhaust pipe.


	65. Being Thankful

Continuity, post DotM, Will Lennox, Steeljaw

Almost everybody remembered the last mech that looked like this, so much so that there had been a rather coordinated panic when he had shown up as humans had grabbed whichever weapons had been at hand.

Mechs had reacted to that by charging cannons and heading out to find the threat. A threat which had blinked its optics and proceeded to look rather baffled by the firepower which was being pointed its way.

Which considering that the mech in question is a giant lion and human expressions are not on the list of things that felines can do very well, was rather an achievement.

It had taken several hours for the majority of NEST to calm down as Prime explained that the mech was an advance scout for his comm. specialist.

While they had accepted the explanation most of them remained wary around the beast. And that perhaps was the problem. It was so much easier to relate to a human shaped mechanoid than to a creature. Although Steeljaw didn't seem to mind that newcomers to the base almost always assumed that he was a drone and not a sentient mech in his own right.

In fact some days he seemed determined to play it up.

'Do you know how many interesting conversations you can listen in on when the speakers think you don't understand?' he had asked Will Lennox one day.

Apparently, the answer was lots, and if Steelie was reporting to Prime, who in turn seemed to have an almost telepathic ability in front of the myriad of liaisons and pencil pushers, well, all was good.

And as for Steeljaw, he didn't boast about his abilities, in fact he was one of the more laid back and reserved mechs on the base... which was why he now had a growing crowd of bemused soldiers watching his current antics.

"Is he... glitched?" Someone asked as Will kept an eye on the lion.

Since they had become public, quite a few families of soldiers in NEST had moved into the base. Not normally a problem until he was on shift, Sarah was in the last stages of her second pregnancy and not feeling at all well, and the friends that Annabelle usually stayed with after school had rang to say their daughter was ill.

Prime himself had suggested a replacement to watch over their daughter and assured Will that no harm would come to her.

And while he was sure that no external harm would be able to befall her, he wasn't too sure about her not getting hurt from her current activities.

"I wonder if we could use that when fighting 'cons?" Somebody else asked as they watched the lion dash around the base parking lot, jumping and scrambling over parked military vehicles and a recharging Hound. How he could sleep through having several tons of lion land on him Will didn't know, but he hadn't even twitched a mirror when Steeljaw had used him as a springboard.

An eight year old Annabelle Lennox firmly seated on his back yelling for him to go: 'faster, Steelkitty, faster'.

While Will was thankful for the Autobots, from saving his aft in Qatar and Mission City and saving the entire world in Egypt and Chicago, to the friendships, strange though the mechs could be at times, that he'd made, at this moment he'd be even more thankful when Steeljaw brought his daughter back in one piece.


	66. Scientific Curiosity 5

Continuity, G1 pre war, Wheeljack

"He is to remain supervised at all times. Do not let him wander off. Definitely do not let him near anything electrical or chemical, especially anything liquid, flammable, corrosive, oxidising or in any way harmful."

The carer just raised an optical ridge at the harried looking creator and sheepish youngling. The mech had called not long before to ask if they could take his youngling for the day as both himself and his mate had been called to a meeting and their youngling had been banned from setting foot on the base. Why he had been banned hadn't been discussed, the mech merely flashing his strange helm fins in an intricate pattern as the youngling in the background of the comm. call had ducked his helm and slunk out of view.

"Well, come in then, Wheeljack was it?" The carer smiled when she received a quick smile as the youngling entered. "Don't worry, everything will be fine." She said as the mech gave her and her building a last worried glance before he transformed and sped off. Her centre had cared for thousands of sparklings and younglings while their creators worked. Wheeljack was in good hands. Probably his carrier and creator had never had to leave him anywhere before and were a little anxious. Not that they had anything to worry about. They were a highly regarded caring service with every type of toy to keep the young ones occupied and quality energon for refuelling time.

She lifted her armour in a shrug at the mech and femme when they arrived to pick Wheeljack up, as with all new younglings she had kept her optics on him at all times. The mech and femme exchanged commiserating glances with each other, almost, the carer reasoned, like they had expected something like this to happen. "Dare I ask?" The mech finally asked as he pointed imperiously at his feet.

"And how much is it going to cost us?" The femme added as the soot streaked youngling slunk over to his creator.

"Not as much as you'd think, the explosion only took out one of the walls." She had to smother her laugh as the youngling seemed to be contemplating how he could sink into the ground. "And for the future, you might want to add energon to your list of banned substances."


	67. Tempus Viator

Continuity, G1, Wheeljack

"It won't work like that."

Wheeljack sighed as he bent over his equations, "How would you know?" Heh, the rest of his Academy classmates really didn't have a clue. He was so close and all they did was laugh when it all blew up in his face.

"Trust me, I know." He frowned as the tone and inflection seeped into his processor. No condescension, no ridicule, just a firm belief in what the other mech was saying. Saving his datapad he twisted round on his bench only to freeze, his processor refusing to accept what it was seeing.

"Feeling any better?" He booted up his optics with a groan, one hand reaching up to his dented helm from where he had hit the floor, then he froze. Again. His helm twisting to once again regard the intruder, at least he managed to get past the glitch that had sent him into lockdown last time, although his vocaliser was still refusing to cooperate as he stared at the strangely configured mech. "Yes, I'm you. No the universe isn't going to implode, nor will either of us cease to exist."

"But." He managed as he hauled himself to his feet. "That. It. How? Why"

"When I was in the Academy I got a strange visitor one night when I was working on a project, which by the way, needs a six instead of a five on the thirtieth line of the equation, who gave me some good advice. First: next time you end up in medical the mech that treats you will be named Ratchet, try and make friends, and remember to duck exactly three and a half breems after he starts fixing you. Secondly: in your final exam this year, double check where the blue leads are connected. Thirdly, don't show anybody your theory on time travel - you'll know when to use it."

"It'll actually work?"

The mech merely tilted his helm, his fins flashing in amusement. "I got here didn't I?" With that he moved to the doorway, half turning back towards Wheeljack. "Oh, and don't forget, number four: make sure you come and chat to yourself." With that the older version slipped out of the door leaving Wheeljack to stare at his data-pad in amazement.

Well, he didn't know how far in the future he had come from, or where he had gotten such an ungainly altmode, he had honest to Primus tires, hardly any mech still had a traction based form as opposed to hover-forms, but at least he knew, one day in the future he'd be the one laughing not his classmates.


	68. Eureka?

Continuity, post DotM, Will Lennox, Wheeljack

Will Lennox didn't even bat an eyelid as a mixed group of soldiers and scientists filed past him with large sticker sheets. When half the occupants are over twenty feet tall seeing oversize items begins to be commonplace. As do many other things. He barely notices the localised earthquake and muted boom that filters up from the underground portion of the base even as he turns towards the nearest lift to go see what the damage will cost this time.

Wheeljack. Again. He still remembers when the engineer had arrived; worse than Que who had been a member of his engineering staff, Ratchet had said with a long suffering huff of air expelled from his vents. Of course he had expected a mild explosion or two; Que had managed to destroy a couple of benches while working on things for the humans to use. What he hadn't expected was for an entire warehouse to be levelled and the engineer in question to stand up amongst the rubble with barely a scratch on his paintwork. A sheepish 'Oooops' being the only thing he had to say for himself.

For the safety of all other beings, both humans and mechs, he had been banished to a well set apart section of the underground compound that was slowly being constructed. From there he managed to break half the laws of science, clearly demonstrated that Einstein didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and sent himself into Ratchet's tender care at least once fortnightly.

Of course, that was only in his free-time, on duty he had an almost spotless record, including keeping the brand new energon converters that he had jury rigged to provide the mechs with a better fuel source than Earth petroleum from going up in smoke.

However his off duty tinkering, and consequent dismemberment, had become quite the running joke in the compound. One day, everybody joked, Wheeljack would come up with a new breakthrough, something amazing and spectacular... His thought process trailed off as the lift opened, the oversize chemical warning stickers adorning the wall were new. Probably what the group he had passed by earlier had been doing, and to be completely honest they were fairly accurate. 'Explosive', 'Oxidising', 'Extremely Flammable' and 'Corrosive'.

Now all he had to do was go see what 'Jack had managed this time. Annoyed voices floated out of the lab as he approached.

"Next time you don't touch anything."

"At least until I'm back in my medbay."

"We."

"Yes, my apologies, we are back in our medbay."

Will didn't expect to be picked up by the scruff of his neck as Wheeljack hurtled out of his lab and barrelled out of the compound, not stopping until they were ducked down between several mundane military vehicles. "What..."

The engineer shushed him as he deposited the bemused human back onto the ground. "I did it. It worked." Will just stared back up at the engineer in confusion as he had no idea what the part time inventor had been working on last. "Well, sort of."

"Sort of?" Will narrowed his eyes at the mech who was hunched down and trying to hide. "What were you making?"

"Well, Ratchet's always saying that we don't have enough Cybertronian metals and things here, so I built him a replicating device." The mechs strange fin like ears glowed a faint red, almost like he was embarrassed. "It works."

Will was about to ask what was wrong then if it worked when the light was suddenly blocked. Wheeljack whimpered, a strange sound to hear from a mech with plating strong enough to survive standing at the centre of a missile impact. Will took the opportunity to back away as fast as he could. While NEST may have an unofficial motto that they not leave anybody behind, well, sometimes it just couldn't be helped. Retreat, they say, is the better part of valour. Only when he reached the dubious safety of the nearest door did he look back.

Two chartreuse painted medics were staring down at the grovelling engineer, identical scowls on their faces.


	69. Singularity

Continuity, IDW, Wreckers

"This wasn't here before." Roadbuster's comment drew everymech's attention to the veiwscreen. Several sets of optics all stared at the singularity beneath them before they all dived for the controls to pull the ship back to a distance that wouldn't involve them being dragged in.

"What do you mean it wasn't here before?" Springer demanded once Xantium had stop shaking from the gravitational forces.

Leadfoot just shrugged as he brought the data up on one of the screens in answer. "Medium red, class five star, five planets orbiting, third planet has, err, had, four moons, the biggest was marked as a possible for an out of the way outpost."

"It would require a significant expenditure of energy to cause such a stable star to collapse into a singularity." Perceptor put in as he pulled up more scans.

Xantium's laughter suddenly cut through the bridge. "I think I've found the reason." Data flashed up on the main screen, a repeating beacon, formally used before the great war to direct shuttle craft around Cybertrons busy space lanes.

A collective noise of exasperation went around the bridge as the mechs took in the signature of the mech who had left the beacon.

"Wheeljack." Springer said with a resigned huff. "I really wish he had said yes when I asked him to become a wrecker."


	70. Just Another Day

Continuity: Post DotM, Lennox, Keller, Wheeljack

Keller frowned "He what?"

Lt. Colonel Lennox shrugged; a gesture that was often used around their new intergalactic neighbours, "He landed near a huge car show..." The soldier trailed off with another shrug as Keller turned back to view the mech they were discussing.

"But I thought they scanned something and became exactly like it. That doesn't explain how he can do that." Keller would readily admit that he was confused. Just when he thought he had a handle on the mechs they would go and do something so alien he had to readjust all his perceptions and boundaries.

As if sensing it was being spoken about, or possibly overhearing - none of the mechs had ever given a clear answer about exactly how sensitive their ears, audials or whatever they were calling them, were - the steel grey car rolled towards them. "Hey Will. Greetings Secretary Keller." The car chirped as it pulled to a stop, bouncing happily, if a car could be said to be happy, on its shocks, the gaudy lighting running around its alt mode flashing as it spoke.

"Wheeljack. Got a question for you." The car disassembled itself and crouched down, regarding the two humans intently, waiting for the query. "You scanned a car at the automobile show you landed near?"

"Yes." Wheeljack nodded, waiting for the human to continue, some sixth sense telling him that the small organic was not finished.

"And you scanned your alt mode directly from the automobile there?"

"Yes." Again he nodded, a strange human gesture, but then they were unable to pick up the quick transmissions that flowed between mechs, instead relying upon contorting their face and body to convey various expressions.

"You are aware that DeLoreans can't actually time travel?" Asked Will, waiting nervously for the answer; he didn't want to be responsible for breaking a mech if his question caused some type of strange paradoxical effect. Thankfully it wasn't to be as the mech slowly shook his head.

His strange flashing ears glowed a faint pink, almost like a human blush. "Ah. No. I just thought the one at the show was broken because the one in the film could clearly fly and traverse the time stream. Besides, it wasn't that hard to fix."


	71. Remembrance Day

Continuity: G1, post the-movie-that-doesn't-really-exist, Hot Spot, First Aid

"Hey. What's up?" The shoulders of the mech hunched over even further, his field radiating distress as Hot Spot moved over to stand behind him, letting his energy field wash calm and reassurance through the mech. "Aid?" The medic cycled a vent full of air as he wordlessly lifted an object up, the servos and gears in his fingers whirring as he clutched it like a lifeline.

"I found it." The medic's voice was scratchy with static. "I forgot I hid it away in a drawer." Hot Spot gently pried it out of his brother's hands, putting it back on the work-surface as he turned Aid around to face him, letting the smaller mech bury his face against his chestplate as he keened.

"Have you forgotten what day it is?" Hot Spot asked gently as the keen started to taper off. The blank expression on his brother's face let him know that the medic had probably been awake and working for too long. "It's Remembrance Day." First Aid's face cleared of confusion before falling again, his hand groping for the abandoned item behind him.

"Oh." His voice was quiet as he stared up at Hot Spot, allowing himself to be led out of his medbay. Remembrance Day had become the time mechs gathered to remember the good times shared with those that had passed into the Matrix, not a day to dwell on bad memories alone.

"Blades still thinks you spend far too much time in there, and you've probably forgotten to refuel. He always said that Ratchet taught you bad habits, no recharge, no refuelling, until you end up being dragged out of your own medbay before you keel over. But then again that's probably because of the time he finally found out that Ratchet had shown you how to take out a Lamborghini at forty paces and that it worked equally well for complaining rotary mechs."

Glancing over he was glad to see that First Aid's optics had brightened again and he was no longer clenching the much abused wrench hard enough to leave yet another set of dents in it. "I remember that. The look on his face when he complained to Ratchet was classic."

"Especially when Ratchet came over, inspected the damage and then congratulated you on a good throw." Hot Spot was glad to feel his brother's energy field perk up, amusement replacing the melancholy as they meandered down the corridor.

"Do you remember when Ratchet found this?" The medic held up the wrench, the worn down inscription still legible, despite the abuse it had suffered.

Hot Spot chuckled, letting his amusement roll over the smaller mech. "That was a dare wasn't it? Even Jazz was amazed that they actually went through with it."

First Aid rubbed a thumb over the glyphs declaring the tool to be 'Hatchet's best throwing wrench' as he remembered his irate mentor finally going through with his threats to reformat the twin terrors. "Sunstreaker especially made a very handsome street cleaner."

Hot Spot laughed outright at that as he pinged the door to their quarters, guiding First Aid in to sit down, the ambulance automatically cuddling into Streetwise. All five of them were together as they should be, and later there would be other mechs coming round to share stories and memory files. Hot Spot smiled as he wedged himself in between Groove and Blades, despite the inevitable sadness this really was his favourite time of year.


	72. Always Another Way

Continuity: G1, Wheeljack, Ratchet

Written for Dragondancer515.

"Owww. Did anybody get the name of the ship that landed on us?" Ratchet merely raised an optical ridge as Wheeljack finally decided to come back to the land of the activated. One red hand kept the engineer from sitting up as Ratchet finished patching together his internals... with human duct tape if 'Jack wasn't too mistaken.

Scanning the wound a last time the medic finally let him sit up, his optics returning to their normal sapphire. "Bruticus."

Wheeljack's audial indicators flashed in confusion as he stared at the mech who was returning what was left of the tape to a compartment in his thigh. "Huh?"

"You asked what, or rather who, got us." The medic said as he got up and wandered over to the edge of the cell, staring out through the bars. There were no Decepticon guards in sight, obviously Megatron didn't deem them likely to escape, not with their comm. links disabled and stripped of any weapons. They'd even taken his favourite laser scalpel, the glitches.

"Oh. Right. So what's the plan?" Wheeljack asked as he heaved himself to his feet, swaying slightly as his stabilisers recalibrated.

"We sit here and wait for a rescue team to show up." What else was there to do in a small cell when one didn't have the keycard?

"Or..."

Ratchet frowned as Wheeljack padded over to a corner of the cell and began removing things from his subspace, given that the con's had emptied his subspace of anything they deemed dangerous this naturally made the medic curious. "Or what?"

"Or I try and get us out of here."

Ratchet reset his optics as he stared at the items his friend had assembled. None of them would solve the problem of them being on the wrong side of a set of laser bars deep inside the Nemesis, which would obviously be why the con's hadn't removed them.

Wheeljack's fins flashed as he laid items out around himself, clearly calculating something. "Mind if I borrow that tape?" Ratchet passed it over without a word and returned to his contemplation of the energy bars, he knew that look far too well. It usually heralded a project that would involve either himself or Perceptor having to forcefully drag the engineer out of his lab to refuel. Sliding down the wall he offlined his optics, praying that the rest of the Autobot's managed to get them out soon.

"There." Ratchet jerked back to full awareness when Wheeljack spoke up, he'd been tinkering for a while, the soft hum and flashes of colour from the back of the cell lulling Ratchet into a light recharge. Wheeljack had a triumphant grin stretching across his faceplates as he came to stand by Ratchet. He obligingly held the object in his hands up for inspection, not that there was that much to inspect as it was a mass of duct tape that didn't resemble anything that Ratchet had ever seen before. "You ready?" Wheeljack said as he took the item back and hefted it in one hand as he stepped in front of Ratchet, using his heavier armour as a shield as he raised his blast-mask.

"Ready for what?"

Wheeljack's reply was lost in a loud boom and a rush of sea water, the laser bars behind them shorting out as they were swept backwards. Ratchet swore rather colourfully in his own processor as he righted himself when the Decepticon brig was completely flooded, while they could survive underwater, it wasn't the nicest sensation, and salt especially itched. On the plus side though, the blast-door to the rest of the ship had engaged, making it impossible for the con's to get to them, in fact, all they needed to do was waltz out the hole that Wheeljack and had somehow managed to blow in the side of the ship, which given that the structure was meant to prevent damage from collisions with space debris while at high speeds was quite a feat.

Especially with only a handful of wires, a spare energon pump, a tiny tube of organic made glue, a small silver sheet used in emergency situations by humans and half a roll of duct tape.


	73. Obvious or Oblivious

Continuity: G1, Ratchet/First Aid, Blades, Streetwise, Groove, Hot Spot

"Blades?" I shutter my optics briefly as I stare around our common room. Streetwise is looking concerned, and Groove and Hot Spot wander over when I can't get my vocaliser to play along, most of my attention still fixed on the image looping through my processor.

I had only gone in to get some more paint. I'd left it so late because it's not like a few patches of peeling paint are life threatening, and if I was lucky I could sneak in while the shifts were changing and the medics were all in the office exchanging notes and stuff.

Pity they were out of my shade, but Hoist happily told me he would order some when I poked my helm into the office. Still all was well at this point... until I wondered where Aid was hiding since he obviously wasn't on duty. Forget the cat, curiosity killed the copter. I just had to go and ping his location when he didn't answer his comm., and then slag if I didn't go one step further and head over to Ratchet's quarters.

In my own defence, Aid is often to be found in Ratchet's company, since there's only the two of them and Hoist that can understand the medical gibberish they seem to talk about. And furthermore the door was unlocked and opened when I pinged for entrance, which is why I was totally not expecting what I got.

Pit, I didn't even get to speak, my greeting remaining firmly in my vocaliser, when I realised that maybe the door wasn't set to open to anybody by choice and maybe, just maybe they had been meaning to lock it. Because what they were doing... slag but I hadn't realised that they were that flexible.

The scent of fresh wax invading my senses as hands roamed over glossy paintwork, a sensuous torture as fingers slipped under plating to set off tactile sensor, the hum of building charge and revving engines filling the room.

And then I remembered that I had been looking for my wayward team mate.

Totally meek and shy little First Aid.

Who had Ratchet bound to his own berth.

Yeah. That First Aid. I'm not sure I'll be able to look him in the optical band again and Primus don't even mention merging into Defensor.

"Did you know?" I finally manage to ask as I partition the memory file so that I can focus on something, no, anything else.

Streetwise looks confused as I collapse onto one of the sofas, my rotors still occasionally twitching "You're not making much sense."

"Aid. Ratchet. Did. You. Know?" 'Wise makes a noise of understanding and I can't help but let my irritation show in our bond. Isn't he even the tiniest bit bothered? Ratchet is way, way older than Aid, and he's grumpy and bad tempered.

Streetwise just grins. "Walked in on them did you?" I can't help but shudder slightly at his knowing smirk.

* * *

I feel the edges of my mouth turn up into a smirk as Blades shudders. Then again I suppose I've had a lot more time to adjust to the idea.

A bit old and rather grumpy had been two of the things I had said to First Aid when I had noticed him moping around and asked what was wrong. I hadn't expected to be told that our very own resident team medic had developed a crush and would not be swayed from finding out if it was reciprocated.

I'm sure Jazz is still trying to figure out who I have a crush on as Aid refused to go ask any of the other Autobots for advice and I had to go in his stead. But eventually Aid went away happy and the very next day I found the two of them in the rec room after their shift sharing energon and chattering about some complicated medical technique or other.

I thought that would be the end of the whole affair till Aid bounced into my room one morning at a time that shouldn't exist after a night shift and proceeded to tell me that they had been getting along really well but the thing is that interfacing isn't exactly on the list of lessons and he wasn't sure how to go about it. Cue me spending my morning explaining a few things I'd picked up while experimenting with Groove and reassuring him that Ratchet wouldn't mind that he didn't know what he was doing.

How anybot managed to miss the slag eating grin Aid was sporting the next week I don't know, it was shining clear through his mask. But clearly Blades was just that oblivious and had managed to miss this from where-ever he had been living.

"You didn't know?" Groove asked, shaking my out of my memories as the cycle-former slipped into the seat next to the still agitated helicopter.

* * *

I held my hands up when Blades glared at me. "If I had known I wouldn't be trying to erase a good two breems of memory from my processor." He tilted his helm to one side as he stared at me for a moment. "You knew about them as well."

I just shrugged, my shoulder armour clattering as it shifted with the human gesture. "Sure did."

Yeah. Couldn't really have missed it, what with the walking in to find Ratchet curled around him like a, how do the humans say it..., like a limpet. Both of them out cold after the frantic repairs caused by a major engagement.

I'd gone in to fetch Aid back so we could make sure he got in some recharge and actually drank the energon, not just put it to one side and forget about it. Ratchet was teaching him some bad habits. Neglecting himself into emergency stasis because he wouldn't leave his patients even once they were all recovering was one of them.

I hadn't seen any of the medics out in the main bay, just Prowl and Mirage both looking as bored as the other at being confined to the medbay, playing a quiet game of chess while their fresh welds settled. Although they were both lucky to be here rather than with Primus after they both decided that tackling Prime to the floor and then covering him like a shield was the best way to protect him. They were in a sense the reason I was here, it had taken a long time for the block on our gestalt bond that Aid put up when he was doing complicated surgery to be lowered.

"Hoist's in the storeroom grabbing a few things, Ratchet and Aid are in the office." Prowl said when I had simply stood around, obviously looking a little lost.

"Thanks." I had absently replied as I poked my helm around the doorframe of the office, and upon seeing nobody inched my way in. It always felt a little wrong to be in here without one of the medics but the gentle whirr of systems on standby from the small backroom drew me inwards.

I hadn't expected to find both Ratchet and First Aid somehow fitting onto the small fold out berth and looking so peaceful.

Hoist had just chuckled at me as I meandered out of the medbay minus the medic I had entered for, waving absently to a smiling, or at least that's what I assumed the twitch at the corner of his mouth was, Prowl and a smirking Mirage.

"If it makes you feel any better Blades, I hadn't noticed." I reset my audial receivers as I stare at Hot Spot as he finally takes a seat. How could he not know? He seems to have a sixth sense at times for whenever we are in, or in some cases, causing trouble.

* * *

I give 'Wise and Groove a wry smile as they stare at me. But really, I had no reason to look closer, Aid was never in trouble. And as any good con artist knows, you have to be a model mech first before you do the dirty deed, that way you aren't even a consideration as a suspect.

Although, I suppose I have to give Aid some credit, he did hide it well, never even a flicker through our bond. Although I suppose he could have been using the medical coded block he puts up in surgery for an entirely different purpose.

Looking back I have no idea how I missed the signs, they are in hindsight so obvious. Even from when we first met Ratchet and decided that he was a foul tempered, wrench slinging mech, even if most of his temper was most often directed at Decepticons, Seekers, Megatron, and only very occasionally at some fool Autobot.

Helping sort inventory in medbay was not one of the top jobs for us, except for Aid who would happily trade his duties outside medbay. Eventually Prowl just stopped bothering to try and give us a 'rounded education' as his rota's were almost always switched.

At the time I never read anything else into it, I mean, Aid was sparked a medic, it made sense that he would be happiest in the medbay, but now I think it might have been the company that he preferred.

And then there are the many nights I had spent on moniter duty, medbay has a camera in the main bay, and I often spent the night keeping an optic on Aid. Ratchet using the quieter night cycle to teach without interruptions. 'A worthy sacrifice' one of the minibots had joked once as it left Hoist on the day shift and he didn't have a trusty throwing wrench. 'For the good of the rest of the crew' Aid had agreed that it would be better if he and Ratchet stayed on nights while he was learning.

How much of the smile when he had said that had been secret amusement that the rest of the crew were encouraging him to spend more time with Ratchet?

And besides First Aid is a fully fledged medic now... and he and Ratchet often take the nightshift together...


	74. Licence and Registration

Continuity: G1/movie (take your pick), Prowl, Streetwise

Streetwise would have frowned, except he was currently tailgating his mentor around the outer fringe of some human city, the fine rain in the atmosphere just heavy enough to keep him aware that it was cold and wet and he really had better things to be doing. Even the datapads that he had been cursing a few hours ago were starting to seem appealing.

Except for the small fact that Prime had banished Prowl from the Ark, he hadn't heard most of the conversation as they had taken it onto a private comm. channel, but the end result was Prowl stalking out of his office The designations Jazz and Ratchet and some choice language about interfering no good slaggers could clearly heard in his muttering before the tactician had folded down into alt mode and screeched away from the Ark.

Which brought Streetwise back to his current position, a few feet aft of Prowl's rear bumper, or at least, that was where he had been since he caught up to the mech, whose grumbling had finally subsided.

::Boss? Where exactly are we going?:: Streetwise tentatively asked, not wanting to send the older enforcer back into his mood.

::Nowhere in particular.:: The other police car growled, it's engine revving as he sped up. ::Glitches seem to think I work too much and some fresh air would do me good.:: The statement was punctuated by a quickly suppressed flash of red and blue lights.

::I see.:: That was the only answer Streetwise could give that wouldn't see him rendered into his component pieces by an irritated tactician who didn't understand the meaning of rest and relaxation. He slowed before he spoke up again, putting a few more car lengths between them just in case ::Are we just going to drive around all day?::

::I hope not. I'm just waiting for the correct target.:: Once again it was only the altform that stopped the frown as he attempted to decipher the meaning of the other mechs words. Surely he didn't mean that he was looking for Decepticons. ::Here we go.:: He was once again left contemplating a cloud of dust and exhaust as Prowl suddenly sped up, his lights flashing as he disappeared into the distance.

Thankfully he didn't need to see where Prowl was going, the whine of his siren was more than enough to let Streetwise keep a general fix on his direction as they wound through the streets. Heading, he suddenly realised, straight for the freeway on the west of the town. Abandoning the attempt to follow Prowl he went straight for the sliproad, his own sirens wailing as he dove through the human traffic. His guess was rewarded as Prowl roared out of a sidestreet not far ahead of him, ignored the lights at the roundabout and screeched onto the Northbound sliproad.

It wasn't too hard to catch up with Prowl on the freeway as the other traffic had split apart to let him through, leaving a tunnel of empty space. ::What's the target?:: Streetwise asked after a moment of scanning the different comm. frequencies.

Prowl's chuckle was unexpected, both in its very presence as the enforcer rarely showed such emotion, and in that he had almost had to flip up onto his side to avoid a human female who wasn't paying attention to the rest of the traffic as she switched lanes. ::Have you scanned the radio transmissions?::

Streetwise growled slightly, his siren stalling for a moment as he berated himself. Patching into the crude human transmissions he quickly picked one out from the local law enforcement that was in the direction they were heading. And, from what he could gather, they were the closest to the incident and would be there first. But that didn't explain why Prowl wanted to get there first.

::Got em.:: Prowls transmission sounded gleeful as Streetwise realised that they had caught up to the vehicle that had been reported to be doing highly illegal spins and other dangerous manoeuvres. Unfortunately the car had also seen the two approaching police cars and accelerated away, weaving down the road, hazard lights flashing in a taunt to the law. If they had been Cybertronian that would have meant only one thing, 'catch me if you can' and Prowl clearly felt it meant the same on this planet as he hit the accelerator.

It seemed to take the racer by surprise as it realised that the police car it had expected to leave in the dust had not only kept up, but was in fact gaining. It pulled over without any further protest, the driver finally showing some common sense as Prowl slid to a stop behind the car and activated his holoform.

"Licence and registration please." Prowl demanded as he stared down at the driver of the sleek speedster and for a moment Streetwise could just imagine him staring down at some poor mech and demanding to know his designation and permit to travel at above regulation speed.

Activating his own hologram he strolled over towards the car, adding his presence to Prowl's, not that he needed to, the tactician was already flipping through a handful of paperwork that had been handed to him, the driver looking nervous as his passenger hunched up in his seat as he stared out at the hologram.

Handing the sheaf of papers back to the driver Prowl leant down, "You are very lucky that I'm only giving you a verbal warning. I could ban you from driving for a stunt like that." The driver nodded, seemingly too abashed to say anything, his passenger letting out a huge sigh of relief as the two officers both started back to their patrol cars.

Prowl started his engine as soon as the door closed behind his hologram, pulling out and moving alongside the still stationary sports car as Streetwise once again found himself nearly clipping his mentor's bumper. Thus he was close enough to see the mortified looks on the two occupants' faces as Prowl couldn't resist a parting shot before he left with a very un-Prowl-like cackle of laughter. "Oh and Bumblebee, you might want to update your licence, according to that you're one hundred and twenty two years old."


	75. Clinging to Reality

Continuity: Normal G1 Cliffjumper, Shattered Glass Ratchet/First Aid, Prime, Jazz

"I'll have Ratchet check you over, just in case."

"Thanks."

Prime gave me a sideways glance before shaking his helm. "Your world must be strange indeed." He didn't elaborate as we entered the medbay, a sharp bark of Ratchet's designation causing a purple and silver helm to appear around a corner. "Ah, First Aid, tell Ratchet I have a mech I want him to look over."

"Sure, sure." The Protectobot agreed as he swept his gaze over me. "Right now?"

"Right now." Prime confirmed before turning on his heel. "I'll have a mech waiting outside for you. And Aid, tell Ratchet, absolutely no modifications."

"Well, what are you waiting for, hop up." First Aid said as the door slid shut behind Prime. "We'll be out in a moment."

Hop up indeed. I never through I'd find myself missing Ratchet's, _my_ Ratchet's, medbay. I chose the cleanest looking berth and jumped up to perch on the edge, trying no to think about the dried puddles coating the surface that had spilled over the sides to create a pool of viscous fluid on the floor. The rest of the room wasn't much better, grime coating the walls alongside graffiti left by past patients, all except for one patch of wall which stood out, the rack of polished medical instruments gleaming in the lights.

"Like this?" First Aid's voice floated out of the side-room, and at least some things in this dimension were still the same; the curiosity in the Protectobots question and the approval in Ratchet's tone as he answered.

"Yes, exactly like that." I think in a way I'd have been more surprised if Aid hadn't been Ratchet's apprentice.

"Oooooh."

The exclamation was followed by a clang of metal striking metal and Ratchet's growl. "Don't move."

I frowned as I slid off the berth, grimacing as stale energon splashed over my feet, curiosity prompting me to find out what Ratchet was teaching, since cleanliness obviously wasn't on the syllabus.

Approaching the door I damped down my electromagnetic field as much as I could, I really didn't want them to notice me spying.

That...

They...

But...

I back-pedalled as quietly as I could, cutting power to my vocaliser before I gave myself away. That was most definitely _not_ a medical technique.

Slinking back to the berth I considered cutting power to my audio receivers, before deciding that it would leave me far too vulnerable, instead I started humming some human made tune that Blaster was constantly playing to try and drown out the sounds from the office.

"Alright, let's have a look at you." It took all my willpower to remain where I was as Ratchet finally emerged from his office, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, First Aid following in his wake and casually ducking as the rag was tossed over a dark turquoise shoulder.

The unexpected prickle of high level scans washing over my frame made me twitch, both medics giving me dark looks as they had to start again. "Sit still or I'll make sure you can't move." Ratchet growled after I messed up the second scan by shifting again, one deep maroon hand casually stroking over a metal cuff attached to the berth. A quick glance around confirmed that every berth had them and I shook my helm, locking my joints into position. "Pity." Ratchet said as First Aid looked crestfallen.

"Well, you look to be fine. Your ember is giving strange readings, but I'll guess that has to do with the different dimensions."

"Ember?" Ratchet moved forward, tapping two fingers against my chest plates before I leant backwards, not so much because I was intimidated by his sheer mass and his assessing scarlet optics watching my every move, but because I knew exactly where those fingers had been not too long ago.

"We call it a spark." I said, almost wilting in relief as he backed off a step.

"Weird name. Anyway, I could give you a couple of upgrades while you're here. I think you'd look good with a set of shoulder spines." The fingers were back, tracing across one shoulder strut and over to my back plating as I tried to duck out from underneath them.

I was still trying desperately to think of a way to turn down the clearly deranged version of Ratchet when First Aid spoke up "Prime said no modifications."

"We could make them poisoned." One green arm slid around First Aid's shoulders, curling around his neck to trace the gaps between his armour as First Aid's optical band brightened before abruptly dimming as he span around to press himself into Ratchet's bigger frame.

"Prime said **_absolutely_** no modifications." Ratchet huffed, his armour flaring in indignation before settling down again. I was glad to see that Prime's orders held some sort of sway over him. Or possibly that was just First Aid distracting him.

Definitely Aid distracting him, I amended as the groping got more inappropriate and neither of them gave me any more attention. I slid off the berth and inched around them, ignoring Ratchet's low hiss as I brushed against Aid on my way past.

Seriously. Possessive much? What did he think I was going to do? Steal away with a not quite all there First Aid.

Glancing back from the doorway to freedom one last time I had to reset my optics. But no, I was still seeing the same thing: Ratchet watching indulgently as First Aid jammed a stim coding stick into one of his own dataports.

"Well." A sharper, more angular Jazz was leaning against the wall opposite medbay, "They anything like yours?"

I couldn't quite suppress the shudder that vibrated my plating for a moment. "Nowhere near." _Thank Primus_ I added in my own processor as something crashed against the doors, Jazz chuckling at my flinch. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at my Ratchet and First Aid in the same way again.


	76. A Long and Arduous Quest

Continuity: G1, Prowl, Ratchet

"And so it was with a heavy spark that the two mechs set out across the wastes of Cybertron. They did not know if they would ever return, but they knew that they had to try and find what they had lost.

They encountered many things on the way, turbo-rats which tried to nibble their wires while they recharged and turbofoxes which followed them, squabbling over their discareded energon cubes. Once they even came across a pack of cyberwolves which follow them for a while, no doubt assessing if they were edible.

They walked across jagged spires of metal, drove across dusty plains and skirted the edges of a lethal lake of mercury. They had only the stars to guide them on their way as there were no other mechs out here.

And so they continued, until finally, in the distance they saw a precious sight, a small cluster of buildings and movement within. They entered the town unnoticed, heading for the only lodgings, the board outside advertising the open rooms. It wasn't much, just a hard berth, but it was better than sleeping on the floor for the two weary mechs and they soon slipped into recharge. They refilled their energon cubes before continuing on their way.

The shimmer and dance of light reflecting off a crystalline tower was soon visible, and they knew they were getting close. All they needed to do now was find a way in to the tower.

And I'll continue tomorrow."

"I think you'd send half the mechs on the Ark into stasis if they knew that you read sparkling stories."

Prowl just gave Ratchet a hum of agreement as he tucked the blanket around the Protectobots who were all fast in recharge as they cuddled. "One day I might even get to the end of the quest before they all drop offline."

"I hope you do." Ratchet said as he turned the lights out as they left the room. "I've never heard that one before and I still have no idea what they've lost."


	77. Forgive Me Primus, For I Have Sinned

Continuity: G1 First Aid, Ratchet

I had thought I had got out of weapons practice after I refused to use any of them or have any modifications added to my frame, Ironhide finally stalking off in a huff.

But I am once again back on the training range. Ratchet gently adjusts my hands to a more comfortable position from where they are locked tightly around a small holdout gun. Small enough to fit into subspace rather than being a part of me all the time and it uses only penetrative rounds as opposed to energy. After all, exploding your own subspace is apparently excruciatingly painful.

"Relax Aid. A lot of mechs will back off if they don't think you are an easy target. Show them you are armed and they will go look for easier targets." Ironhide did say something similar, but it seems easier coming from Ratchet because I know he only has one integrated weapon, a pulse cannon which is more a deterrent than a destroyer.

"But for those that aren't dissuaded you must never hesitate." His frame is warm as he kneels behind me, hands gripping the gun over my own as he raises it to point down the target range.

"It's not your life that's at stake. It's your patients." He closes my finger over the trigger. "Your patient is in stasis lock, they can't defend themselves, if you don't protect them they will be extinguished." I expected a quick motion, but he is all but embracing the weapon, our fingers gently caressing the trigger.

"You need to see where you are firing Aid." It is an effort to keep my optics online as he fires again. "It won't do any good if you miss your target." This time he doesn't let go, letting bullets slam into one of the targets in a spray of simulated energon. "Watch where you are firing and don't stop until you run out of ammunition. A quick, clean deactivation is what you want."

"I'm armed." I warn the mech as I step around the downed Autobot, energon still leaking from his chassis. "Come any closer and I will shoot."

"You wouldn't even know which end of a gun to point at me." The Decepticon jeers, four glowing scarlet optics locked on my empty hands, his own weapon, an axe almost as big as I am glowing with energy.

But he pauses as I draw my weapon from its subspace holder. "Please back off." For a moment I think he is going to do as I ask, then he shatters my dream, leaping forward with a savage growl.

I raise my gun, centring it without hesitation on his neck. That is the weak spot of that frame type. I squeeze the trigger, the kick pushing against me and it takes all my will to keep it level as I fire. Not stopping until the loud click lets me know that I am out of ammunition.

The sharp crack and thunk of the bullets leaving the gun and impacting my target are still ringing in my audial receivers as the Decepticon collapses. Surprise and pain still mingling on his faceplates as his optics dim, his hand dropping away from his ruined neck as his energon stains the ground.

I am shaking by the time backup arrives to help transport my patient, but none of the warrior builds even notice the Decepticon beyond a quick sensor check to ensure he is fully extinguished.

I calm by the time we reach the Ark, there is no time to think once I am back in the medbay as we weld and splice and bypass to keep mechs online. It is only after, when we start cleaning, work that needs no thought, no concentration, that my processor starts to wander, my hands shaking as I scrub down our tools.

Until Ratchet comes over, something in my posture giving away that all is not well and it does not take much to break down the walls I have kept up, the quiet compassion in his voice meaning so many things to my scrambled thoughts; safety, security, refuge .

I hold the gun out to him, pressing it into his hands and I know he can tell it has been fired.

That it has been emptied of ammunition. Stark evidence of what I have done.

He doesn't say anything more as he sets the thing aside and opens his arms, wrapping them around me as I keen.


	78. Doctor's Orders

Continuity: G1, Ratchet/Hoist, First Aid

Ratchet really needs to listen to his doctor

* * *

"Out." The command is so unexpected I am outside my office before I realise what has happened. Settling my weight to resist the mech pulling me along I grab onto the nearest berth with my free hand.

Hoist glares at me as he is yanked to a stop, his mass not enough to move me. "Your shift ended, if you hadn't noticed."

"I have reports that need finishing."

Hoist's optics flicker over to the other side of the medbay. "Aid is here now and you've already cleaned everything. He can finish the padwork rather than standing around doing nothing." The Protectobot in question merely nods and waves us out, and despite the full surgical mask he wears I can see his amusement.

"But."

"But nothing." Hoist cuts me off before I am able to say anything. "Doctor's orders. You need to catch up on your recharge." The tugging pressure on my arm doesn't cease and it is clear that both of them will be willing to keep nagging till I give in. "Look. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Easy way?"

"You walk."

"And the hard way?"

A smirk spreads across his face. "We knock you offline and go find some mechs willing to drag you back to your quarters." I can already see the gleeful look on Sideswipe's face.

"You wouldn't." His expression doesn't change and I am forced to conclude that he would. "Fine." He is dragging me to the door almost before I have finished speaking. "So, any other orders you want to give while you are in the midst of your mutiny?"

The slag eating grin on his face makes me wonder what I have just let myself in for. "Well, if you want a professional opinion: you could do with a good scrub in the washracks, a cube or two of highgrade and a good 'facing. You're far too tense."

I suppose I should have been expecting that. Underneath the calm, competant professional attitude Hoist really is a kinky glitch. I just hope Red Alert wasn't on duty to hear that declaration, this part of the corridor is within audio range of one of his cameras and I'll never get any recharge if he gets dragged in because Hoist has been, and I quote from when he last overheard something; 'replaced with an intruder'.

"You offering?"

"I suppose somebody should make sure you follow your doctors orders."

Stopping outside my door I nod slowly. "That's very true, I am a very stubborn patient."

Hoist grins. "Very stubborn. I'll have to keep a very close optic on you."

I palm the door pad and stand aside to let him in. "You know, I'll have to keep on overworking if this is the usual treatment."

He laughs as he disappears into my washrack. "Your doctor insists that you step through here for a full checkup."


	79. Oathbound

I had to wonder if Cybertronians had their own version of the Hippocratic Oath.  
Continuity: G1, Ratchet  
Ratchet isn't too enthused about the graduation ceremony that all medics have to go through

Wonderful. My turn to go make a fool of myself. What should I do, trip as I ascend the ramp, wobble over when I'm menat to kneel in front of the Prime, get the words to the oath mixed up? So many possibilities.

It is almost anticlimatic to finally stop in front of Sentinel Prime, first among the chosen of Primus and all that slag. He doesn't seem any different to the rest of the higher class mechs we get through the clinic from time to time. But far be it for me to disrespect the longstanding traditions as I manage to get to one knee without falling over and wait for him to ask his ritual question so that I can just get on with the slagging ceremony.

iI swear by Primus as my witness, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

I will respect the knowledge of those in whose steps I walk, and will gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's blade or the physicians coding. Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of those in ill repair, remaining free of all intentional injustice and of all mischief.

I will not attempt more than I am able, but will withdraw in favor of such mechs as are.

I will prescribe treatment for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone, even if this means to do nothing, rather than cause more harm at a later stage.

I will neither give coding patches or stims to anybody if asked for them, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Nor will I help any pass to the Well if I am asked, nor will I advise such a plan; and similarly I will not give anything to cause a reabsorption of a new-spark.

I will in the exercise of my profession keep all that may come to my knowledge which ought not to be spread abroad, secret and will never reveal. Nor will I give out any information tied to the profession, that which is used to bypass firewalls and coding blocks to any mech unless they be also learning the art.

In purity and holiness and in the name of Primus, I will guard my life and my art. If I hold to this oath may a long life be granted to me; if I swear falsely or break my oath, may Primus have mercy on my spark./i

I almost toss Sentinel's hand off my helm before I am able to return to my seat. I really could have done without all the pomp and ceremony. What would have been wrong in giving my oath in private, or at least, to the elder medics. I would have known I've given it, and if he actually exists, Primus would have known.

Instead I'm sitting here waiting for everybody else to finish up before I can get out of here. And this is I am not a general practitioner, social skills are not my forte, I'm much happier when my patient is in stasis and I don't have to deal with emotional coding and all the irrationality that it brings. I can also work at my own speed, no mechs telling me to stop this or stop that, or do it this way. As long as it gets the right result without breaking our covenant does it really matter which way I do things?

Well, it might have done while I've had a mentor watching my every move, but I am finally free to do it my way and I have to supress a whistle of celebration as Sentinel ifinally/i wraps up his finishing speech.

Fully certified Circuit and Chassis Surgeon Ratchet is on the loose...

* * *

Continuity: G1, Hoist  
Graduation from the medical academy is what Hoist has been working towards, somehow he thought it might be a little more showy, but some changes are not external

This is more nerve wracking that I expected and I have to fight to keep my armour from clamping tight to my frame as I make my way to the front of the room, to bow before the very essense of Primus.

I hadn't realised just how tall the Lord Prime actually is until my knee guard hits the ground and I am looking at nothing more than his thighs as he steps forward, resting a hand upon my shoulder.

"Hoist. Do you swear by Primus to uphold thy oath, to keep they calm and to do thy best at any time?" His voice is a deep rumble as I reply automatically. My response burned into my very personality core and coded as deeply into my protocols as it can go.

i"I swear by Primus as my witness, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

I will respect the knowledge of those in whose steps I walk, and will gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's blade or the physicians coding. Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of those in ill repair, remaining free of all intentional injustice and of all mischief.

I will not attempt more than I am able, but will withdraw in favor of such mechs as are.

I will prescribe treatment for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone, even if this means to do nothing, rather than cause more harm at a later stage.

I will neither give coding patches or stims to anybody if asked for them, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Nor will I help any pass to the Well if I am asked, nor will I advise such a plan; and similarly I will not give anything to cause a reabsorption of a new-spark unto the Well.

I will in the exercise of my profession keep all that may come to my knowledge which ought not to be spread abroad, secret and will never reveal. Nor will I give out any information tied to the profession, that which is used to bypass firewalls and coding blocks to any mech unless they be also learning the art.

In purity and holiness and in the name of Primus, I will guard my life and my art. If I hold to this oath may a long life be granted to me; if I swear falsely or break my oath, may Primus have mercy on my spark."/i

The hand moves from my shoulder, resting for a brief moment on my helm before Sentinel steps back. "Rise Hoist, certified General Practitioner of the Iacon Acadamy of Medics."

I am shaking as I push myself to my feet and step back the required two steps before bowing to the Lord Prime, then to the ranks of the masters who have come to watch the promotion ceremony, before making my way back off the platform and to my seat.

I barely realise that the next mech has been called up as I stare at my hands. After so long it doesnt't seem to be sinking in. I'm a medic. A real medic. Not an apprentice. A real, honest, spark bound, oath given medic.

Nothing has changed, at least, not outwardly. But I have given my word to Primus and I know that in my spark I have matured. I am a medic and I have a duty and a purpose now.


	80. Cold Comfort

Continuity: G1, Hoist, Ratchet

Every mech must have got caught in the war at some point, this is just one way that two of the most well known Autobot medics might have got involved.

* * *

They are gazing back at us with the same pain and weariness that, must surely be in our optics. But I cannot do anything about it. I just don't know enough. Even Ratchet with all his knowledge of inner circuitry is out of his depth. We aren't battle medics, able to weld and patch just so that a mech can go back out to fight some more.

It goes against everything that I am to heal for such a reason, I can't do a half job which could cause complications in the future. Even if I know, Primus, do I know that if we don't then we may not reach safety.

In the end we had no choice, we had to do it. And if the light I was holding wavered, none of them said a word, as Ratchet's hands were steady as he secured circuitry and welded plating back into place. Nor do they say anything as we curl up together in the lee of the buildings we are using for shelter, listening to the distant chatter of guns and the louder thump of artillery. It is only now that I can feel him shaking, but there is nothing I can say, nothing I can do.

We've both heard the fighters talking as we make our way towards safety; cowards, they call us. But they don't understand. They will never understand. Their coding tells them to point a weapon and fire, that the enemy is another mech doesn't matter to them. To us, our coding tells us to do no harm. How can they expect us to fight when everything we are screams against taking up arms.

Perhaps if we reformatted into military medical frames we might have more of a chance, they have specific coding to deal with what is to be considered delf defense and what is breaking the medic's oath. They can defend their unit, for prevention of injury is better than putting them back together afterwards. But us, we're civilians, we can defend our current patient as a last resort, and only if ourselves, or the patient will be further harmed if we don't take action.

Neither of us will break that part of the code, if we do, what will we say when we stand before Primus for judgement and he asks us if we have been true to ourselves?

We weren't even meant to be here. We were with a neutral convoy making our way away from the advancing warfront when the Rebel leader sent out a new message; there's a standing bounty on the helms of all medics now. Half the convoy tried to turn us in, what did they think it would do? Buy them time to get away? I don't know, all I do know is that there were still some mechs with honour. But they couldn't do any more for us than get us away from the convoy.

Honestly, I thought we were already on our way for deactivation when the patrol found us. That they were Primse's warriors was unexpected. But now they are risking their lives to get us to safety, and all I can do is pray that none of them lose their lives for us. They haven't said it out loud, but we think that the edict cut too deeply, even now, in the skirmishes that have happened between enemy patrols, it is us they have targeted. If they have done this all over Cybertron, how many of our brothers have fallen in the name of war? How many medics are still online?

Crouching behind a bombed out housing unit, Ratchet a solid warmth behind me, I don't think I want to know the answer. But I fear that we will know all too soon. And if that way is when we stand before Primus, I'm not going to argue, because it must be better than this.


	81. Not Yet Time

Continuity: Prime (novel tie in: Exodus), Vector Prime, the Fallen Vector Prime, master of space and time, has a visitor he does not want.

"I know you are here." The space around me does not move, the distortions continuing as they were moments before.

"I have known you would come speak with me for a long time." There is still nothing to suggest I am anything but alone as I watch the fluctuations of particulate matter surrounding me. The energy ebbing and flowing, carressing my plating like a lover.

"I will not give you what you seek." No, this is my land, my space, my time.

"But then you did not expect anything else did you?" No, we know each other far too well. He knows I will not give up my secrets.

Time stretches, distortions oscillating in the light that is always here. A strange glow, flaring in time with the pulse of the universe. A place where energy and matter and time have no meaning. Everything was here, still is, and always will be.

"Will you try and take what you want by force, brother?" The energy seems to quiver, wavering, streaming away from the other presence that has finally shown itself.

I can hear the rumble of his systems, the click and whirr of armour and circuits and the faint thrum of a weapon that should never have been made.

But I do not turn. For this is my place. He simply doesn't realise it yet. He fights for what he wants, but he does not stop to learn.

"You will tell me what I want to know." His voice is a deep rumble, a countermelody to the music that permeates this place, the very soul of the universe.

It is only now that I face him, the energy in this place gathering around me. "No. I will not." The blaster starts to charge and in its muzzle I can see my destiny mapped out so clearly.

He cannot come here again. This is not his place.

The energy I have gathered shimmers around me as it blazes over my plating, and for a moment I see fear in his eyes before he is pushed away, pushed out. The Requiem Blaster and the Blades of Time ripped from his hands before they too are flung out.

This is my place. And here I will stay till it is my time once more. 


	82. The Category of Stupid

Continuity: G1, First Aid, Groove, Hound, Beachcomber

There is a limit to even First Aid's patience.

"In the classification of things, I think this falls under the category of stupid." No mech dared to argue with the medic standing in front of them, wrench held threateningly in one hand as he glared at the offenders. "What exactly do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Oooops?" Beachcomber offered as he shook another small mountain of sand out from underneath his armour.

The wrench inched a little higher and the fingers holding it creaked with the tightening pressure.

"Sorry?" Hound tried.

"Really sorry." Groove tacked on since First Aid was clearly still in the medical category 'taking a lesson from Ratchet in dealing with idiots'. As it was rare for any but the mech in question to reach this level of annoyed whereupon wrenches started flying, the slow sideways shuffle of doomed mechs towards the door was inevitable.

"Get back here." And that was quite possibly yet another stupid thing to do. It is a well known fact that medics have a sense entitled 'patient is making a break for it, catch them quick'. The wrench was stabbed at the floor until all victims had returned to their previous positions. "I think the phrase you are looking for is: we're sorry First Aid, we won't do it again."

"we're sorry First Aid, we won't do it again?" Beachcomber tried.

"Pffft. Who am I kidding? Of course you'll go and do it again. The same way the twins are in for jet related injuries, Prime ends up with an injury for throwing himself in front of somemech and Ironhide comes in for cannon related issues." The wrench was finally lowered from threatening to lightly clasped and three sets of armour that had been tightened in preparation for being hit were relaxed.

"Go on, scram, just be glad it was me in here and not Ratchet." The Protectobot said and they didn't need telling twice, barreling out of the medbay as fast as they could. Some days he really could sympathise with Ratchet, it just wasn't worth onlining some mornings just to fix self inflicted injuries caused by idiotic mechs.


	83. Little Details

Continuity: G1, Ratchet, First Aid, Hoist

It's the little details that are the most amusing.

"For the last time Ratchet. Stand still." I flared my armour in irritation when he continued to fidget, he is worse than a young human. "Really, the amount of time you yelled at us to stop moving, I would have thought you could manage it."

He twisted his helm around to look over his shoulder at me. "You sat still Aid, it was your brothers I was yelling at."

"Of course." I snorted, the sudden intake of air into my venting system making Ratchet jump and what I was trying to do gained yet another squiggle. "This is going to look like it was done by a sparkling." I warn him as I regard the wobbly edge of the red paint.

"It's not my fault you're tickling." He replied as his leg twitched again, gaining him a red streak along his thigh plating.

And here I thought he had sworn off human terminology, because that is not something that can happen with Cybertronian anatomy. "Tickling?" I have to ask, just to clarify as I move around to try and do the front of his pelvic armour.

"Yes." He says with an air of finality as he shifts again, right as I start painting and my annoyed growl can probably be heard in medbay. Why did Sideswipe think orange paint above the medbay doors was a good idea? And why did I end up having to repaint Ratchet? My steady hands are not really all that helpful when certain mechs. Keep. Moving.

"There. Done." Or at least, as done as it's going to get while stuck in the rather cramped medbay office.

"Better than orange." He says as he stalks out. "I'll be back later, going to go disassemble Sideswipe."

I am left leaning on the office door as he stalks out, and it is the small wordless burst of amused static from Hoist that prompts me to look his way. His optics are bright with laughter as he tilts his helm at me then jerks it towards the door in a clear question.

"He wouldn't stand still." I reply to the unasked question, which only makes Hoist shake as he tries not to laugh.

"Does he realise that the edges and streaks make it look like he's been interfacing?"

The innocent rattle of my plating finally makes him lose it as he holds onto the berth for support and I can feel the same amusement bubbling up; Sideswipe may go for the outright obvious pranks, but I've always thought that it's the little details that work best.


	84. Patented Cure

Continuity: G1, Hoist, Ironhide

Ironhide really would like a hangover cure. Hoist isn't being very accommodating.

"You are meant to ease suffering, not prolong it." The comment was, I believe, meant to be a statement of fact, instead it came out as a cross between a plea and a whine. Unfortunately for Ironhide I am quite happily ignoring him, as I have been for the past several breems.

The glitches think they can go out, get thoroughly slagged and then wait till Ratchet isn't on shift and come bother me for a cure. Well today I'm on strike. They'll just have to wait for Ratchet and take their chances with wrench dodging. Or of course they could go recharge away the extra charge.

"Come on Hoist, pleeeeease?" Ironhide says as he pushes himself away from the berth he is leaning against and heads in my direction.

Of course I use the word 'direction' rather loosely as it is more of a targeted wobble. A very uncoordinated wobble that I sidestep with ease. The inevitable finally happens as he heads towards the floor, grabbing for any support he can find. I make the only choice possible and grab the box of parts that I was cleaning before the table tips over.

"Ow?" Ironhide asks as he stares up at me as I flash a scan over his frame. Thankfully for him the only thing coming back is the elevated level of charge in his energon and a whole host of minor systems that have shut down so that the charge wont cause any damage. But no new damage.

"No. you're fine. Except for the still being slagged out of your own processor after a full recharge cycle."

"Oh." He doesn't move and I am forced to step over him to rescue the table and set the box of parts back down. "You really aren't going to give me Ratch's hangover cure are you?"

"No. I'm really not." I confirm as I once again brave the perils of navigating back across Ironhide without stepping on any part of him. It doesn't work as a strong hand settles around my ankle and yanks, and I find myself clattering to the floor. "Eeeeeep." Not what I was trying to say, but my vocaliser doesn't seem to want to work as Ironhide rolls over, his heavier frame pressing me to the floor, heat seeping from his plating as he runs a hand up the side of my chassis.

"I got a better way to get rid of a hangover. You sure you don't want to help give me this cure?"


	85. Doctoring the Doctor

Continuity: G1, Ratchet, Prowl

If Prowl had wanted to be a medic he'd have attended the medical academy

"That's not good." Ratchet: master of stating the obvious.

"No, I would say it is not." I have to agree as he holds his hand up, energon staining his fingers a faint pink. It is at this point that I am so glad to have battle protocols running and the emotional impact of having the medic slowly bleeding out has been tuned down from a hysterical 'oh frag, oh frag, oh frag, what do I do?' to a 'I should probably patch that up.'

And from the detached expression I'd say Ratchet's also still running under battle conditions. Either that or the rumours that the Decepticons seem to pass around about him being a merciless spark extinguisher with no emotions except rage is actually true. And how that one got started I have no idea, but it still makes us all laugh whenever captured decepticons plead to have Hoist see to them rather than Ratchet.

"You're going to have to tell me what to do." The faint whirr of his systems is the only thing to respond and I don't need to look up to realise that he's slipped into stasis.

Peering into his side I have to make several grabs for the two ends of energon tubes that I can see, pulling them back together and then winding emergency binding from my small medical kit around it. I have no idea how Ratchet does this all the time. Processed energon is foul stuff, sticky and slimy at the same time, and with a faint sickly stench that makes the tanks heave.

When we get back to safety I'll be having a word with him about throwing himself over his patients. While I understand the reasoning, next time I will suggest that he rolls us away from the missile rather than him simply bracing for impact.

Slagging self sacrificing medic, leaving me to play doctor. Peering into his side again I can only hope he won't mind if he ends up with a few crossed wires.


	86. Speed and Velocity

Continuity: G1, Ratchet

Ratchet would quite like his emergency response training, if it wasn't for the instructor.

"Okay, you've never done this before?" The no-nonsense mech asks as he reads over a pad.

I shake my helm as I stare over our current location.

"Not even recreationally?" He pushes and I shake my helm again, maybe I did when I was a youngling, but I joined the Academy as soon as I was transferred into my adult frame and I've never had time to try it.

"Right." The enforcer says as he marks something on the pad. "You read through the manual that was sent to you?"

"Yes." It takes effort to stop my plating from rattling and I'm not sure whether it is from excitement or apprehension.

"Very well." He says as he steps off the track and settles himself in the stands. "Patch into my commlink and you will follow any instructions I give you immediately. Beyond that, you may begin whenever you are ready."

Folding down into my alt mode I accelerate away from the stands following the track around at a respectable speed until I reached what would be the limit for normal civilian mechs. And this is where the real test begins, turning my lights and sirens on I slowly increase my speed.

I can feel my thrusters thrumming, the deep growl far harder than anything I've heard from them before and my sensors have become hyper aware, flashing data at me in an endless wave.

Traction ratings are no longer a constant, instead they are fluctuating as my anti-gravs try to keep a fine balance between too little and hitting the floor and too much and flipping over.

I am so unprepared for the high pitched alarm of a proximity alert that I wrench my entire front end around, barely missing the obstacle in the track and I end up rolling, the screech of metal as my roof scrapes across the floor of the track jarring me out of my alt mode.

::You're trying to get to an accident, not cause one.:: My instructers caustic comment echoes through my comm. as I run a quick self diagnostic. ::Do you really think all mechs are going to get out of your way just because you have pretty lights?::

Nothing damaged beyond dents I flip back into my alt mode ramping up my speed again, but this time I keep an extra sensor online for obstacles on the track. A good thing I did as there are more of them as I get further round the track, models built to resemble mechs of all sizes and frames, and debris left lying around, the entire track changing from an open air racing venue to a mimicry of a congested arterial route.

Then it changes again and I barely miss plowing into a wall as it takes on the form of a tightly packed industrial and residential area, the streets narrow and twisting and several times I feel my sides scrape against walls as I take corners a little too fast.

By the time I am back in front of the enforcer my engine is screaming at me and I am on my hands and knees, my spark racing with a strange mix of exhilaration and excitement and a dash of fear.

"A good start. But you clipped at least three other mechs and I'm afraid your patient extinguished before you arrived."

I? What? I don't have chance to ask him what he means as he motions with his datapad towards the track.

"Again. Apprentice. And this time put some speed into it." 


	87. Helping You

Continuity: Shattered Glass, Hook, First Aid

Drabble: The poor Autobot just needed some help to set him on the right path.

The young Autobot looks so forlorn, sitting alone in his cell. He probably hasn't been shown any kindness in his short life and this is my chance to change that. "I can help you, I just need to check you for injuries."

He doesn't move as I scan him, until I suddenly feel a slight pressure against one arm and the sharp prick of an energon line being breached. "What?"

"No, you can't help me. But I can help you." His optical band lights up with a bright glow as he smiles at me. "I can help you meet Primus."


	88. Made to be Broken

Continuity: G1, Ratchet, First Aid

Warnings: Very mild allusions to P&P interfacing

Some rules are made to be broken.

This was wrong.

It had been wrong the first time he slid his mask back and reached up to wrap an arm around my neck, the other curving around my shoulder to rest against my backstrut.

I had been too surprised to do anything other than return the contact, and then he was gone, a grin spreading across his face before the mask slid back into place and he slipped out the door.

Of course he saw my lack of rejection as encouragement and there was little I could say to dissuade him.

Military rules he had decided were good. Except when the civilians are non-existent and the mechs at the top have no way to socialise, no way to even have a quick frag let alone enter a relationship without breaking the rules.

He had dismissed them as archaic, and besides, all the other officers had long ago broken them, except Prowl and Red Alert, if any mech could get them to date then they would go down in history as the mechs that ended the war as even the Decepticons would keel over in shock.

I didn't point out that most of the other officers were breaking the rules with other officers, not with mechs in their chain of command. He just nodded, agreed and told me to stop trying to find excuses.

And now I have to wonder why I ever bothered resisting him. He grins up at me, blue optics bared as he toys with my interface cable and I am hard pressed not to simply snatch it up and plug it in myself.

I can still imagine the reactions of the other mechs that hold a rank equal to mine, but somehow, they matter much less than they ever did before.


	89. Small Details

Continuity: Movie

Prime forgot to mention an itty bitty detail in his reports for the humans

It was a good thing it wasn't high summer else Ratchet would be dealing with a hell load of pissed off soldiers looking like lobsters. Since NEST was recruiting from the best from across the world some of them just weren't used to the higher temperatures during the summer months.

And why are we all outside sitting under the shelter of a treeline some distance away from our base?

Well, that would be because the aforementioned highly advanced robotic being from another planet has banished us all so that he can do some routine maintenance. At least we aren't alone, the rest of the Cybertronians have also been expelled by the cranky medical officer and the small copse of trees is now looking like a strange mix of automobile show and truck stop.

Except for the fact that several of the cars are no longer cars, the wreckers had gotten bored some time ago and the rest of the Cybertronians are doing their best to ignore the fact that they were now jousting. With trees. In fact, Prime had only spoken up to warn them to put them back in the ground once they were finished if they were still in one piece.

But back to the matter in question. Ratchet. Repairs. We'd often seen him prying off wall panels and adjusting things, hell, we'd even seen him clinging to the towers of the base with a strange magnetic device so he could fix things. So why did he need us all outside? What was he planning to do, flood the entire thing with toxic gas to fumigate, he's always complaining about Earth rodents and their ability to get everywhere. But even that wouldn't explain the presence of the rest of the Cybertronians at our outdoor party.

Finally.

I'm not the only one to get up from whichever spot seemed convenient for lounging as the hard to miss luminescent form of the medic ducks out of the main doors and strides away from the Cybertronian city that has become our main base of operations.

And then...

Then...

It...

...

I think Prime forgot to mention something in his briefings.

At least I'm not the only one. Hell, even Lennox just rolled off Prime's hood to sprawl in front of his grill, and his voice, when he finally finds it, sounds exactly like mine would if I actually had anything coherant to say. A fine mix of shock, accusation, horror, awe, and did I mention shock?

"Prime, our base just transformed."


	90. Virtual Flattery

Continuity: Movie, Ratchet, Jazz

Ratchet is trying to put Jazz back together. Jazz isn't helping...

Ratchet sighed, a distinctive human trait, but at this exact moment it summed up his feelings all too well.

The mech beside him preened, flickering his plating at the medic, who simply sighed again, venting atmosphere from his vent system with a whistling hiss. "If you would cooperate it would be greatly appreciated." If sarcasm could kill the mech would be flat on his aft for the second time.

Thankfully for Jazz, sarcasm doesn't seem to be a primary cause of deactivation for Cybertronians. "Sorry Ratch."

The white and red medic merely huffed, his armour flaring lightly. "I'm trying to work, you aren't helping."

"Sorry." The silver mech stood still for several nanoclicks before bouncing lightly on his stabilisers as he leans over the medic who is plugged into a console typing away at lines of coding. "But what would happen if I do this?"

Ratchet twitched.

Jazz yelped as a heavy hand, complete with a new paint colour, landed on his scruff, hoisting him into the air like a recalcitrant sparkling. "Stop meddling. I can't bring you back online till I've repaired all the coding issues." The silver mech was abruptly dropped as Ratchet sat back down and returned to his console.

It wasn't his fault he was bored. He'd been sitting here for vorns and vorns and vorns. Well, maybe not quite that long, but it felt like it, while Ratchet shifted through his coding. He couldn't help it if he was totally and utterly bored stiff. So stiff his physical form has probably rusted away by now. So really, could Ratchet expect anything else?

And then he found something in his coding that shouldn't have been accessible. So sue him, as the humans say, for being curious. But after a short inspection realised he had found something that could keep him occupied.

Medical codes, meant to be locked away behind firewalls unless a medic hardlines in and accesses them. Codes that can shape the virtual reality of a mechs processor so that a medic can keep them calm or explain things.

Adjusting the medic back to his current Primus forsaken lime green colour scheme he earns a muttered thanks. And now he's bored again. He's changed the landscape, orange upside down organic trees with tentacles in a purple swamp currently, he's changed Ratchet back to his Cybertronian red and white, and then to a glorious shade of pink, which apparently wasn't appreciated as his collar plating still feels dented, and now he can do what?

It is not till Ratchet glances up, wary about what has kept his patient quiet for so long that he finds out what Jazz decided to do next. "What the slag do you call that?" Ratchet asks, a faint splutter of static clouding his voice as he tries not to laugh at the utterly ridiculous image.

Jazz grins, his virtual reality form now resembling Ratchets, except he has what the humans would call devil horns perched on top of his helm, the required wings and tail are also present and a large wrench completes the image. "Poetic License?"


End file.
